Baltimore Boys
by REIDFANATIC
Summary: Sequel to Pennsylvania Avenue Prodigies. As the BAU investigates the murder of three teachers in Baltimore, Reid worries about the effect another murder will have on Fletcher.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no copyright infringement is intended.

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The harsh autumn wind lashed the rain and fallen leaves against the windows. Loud claps of thunder followed closely by sheet lightning briefly lit up the sky and the ground below. He hurried from the building, his briefcase over his head. Why hadn't he brought his umbrella this morning, he chastised himself as the wind blew the rain into his face and eyes, blinding him. It wasn't like the weather report hadn't forecasted this deluge. Not that his umbrella would have held up in this wind he thought as he ran for his car that sat alone in the farthest reaches of the parking lot. Served him right for being late, he reprimanded himself again as the rain soaked through his clothes. He could feel it squishing in his shoes as he ran through puddles that seemed to be everywhere. He finally reached his tan Lexus and fumbled in his pocket for the keys. He heard another deafening crack of thunder and the sky again lit up. In the brief flash of lightness he saw a figure in a soaked hoodie standing in the darkness; likely one of the students late for curfew. "Are you late for curfew?" he yelled. "Hop in and I'll drive you to the doors." He clicked the remote to unlock the car doors. The figure approached the driver's side door. "What the…" was all he was able to get out before the thunder clapped again drowning out his scream as the lightning revealed the knife being wielded by the hooded figure. He fell to the ground while his attacker stabbed him repeatedly, then turned and walked away as Doug Hay's body lay on the wet pavement, the blood that drained from it washed away by the unrelenting downpour.

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Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner got off the elevator on the sixth floor in his usual black suit, white shirt and black tie, his hair neatly combed and his stern professional demeanor firmly in place and almost ran into Special Agent Jennifer Jareau. "Good," JJ said, "we need to talk."

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The BAU team drifted slowly into the conference room, blue coffee mugs adorned with the FBI logo in their hands. They sat around the round table waiting for JJ to begin the briefing but it was Hotch who spoke first. "We've been asked to consult on the murders of three teachers in Baltimore." He looked directly at the youngest member of the team. "Reid, one of the teachers taught at Fletcher's school."

"Which one?" Reid asked, holding his breath, praying that he wouldn't hear Trevor's name knowing that Phoebe would be devastated but also cognizant of the fact that it was tragic whoever it was.

"Douglas Hay," Hotch replied. "He was stabbed last night in the parking lot of the school."

"The parking lot of the school," Reid repeated.

"Reid, I don't know if you knew Doug Hay…" Hotch began.

"Yeah, I met him once at a parent/teacher night. He was a nice guy, seemed totally devoted to his students." Reid was quiet for a few moments.

"Do you think it will affect your handling of the case?" Hotch asked sternly.

"No, no, I want to catch this unsub. I was just thinking that this is the second time a serial killer has been so close to Fletcher. It's bound to bring back memories." He stood up heading for the conference room door. "Sorry, I have to make sure he's alright."

"Reid, none of the students has ever been har…" JJ began before Reid was out the door. She clicked the remote. "The body of Doug Hay was found this morning by the side of his Lexus in the Weinthorpe Academy faculty parking lot. He was stabbed numerous times but all the blood evidence was washed away by the storm that struck the area last night." JJ finished as Reid walked back into the room. "How's Fletcher doing?" she asked.

"He seems to be okay. The principal called an assembly and let all the students know what happened. Fletcher says there are counselors and child psychologists coming to help the kids work through it. He's upset of course. Mr. Hay was one of his favorite teachers. He's glad we're on the case."

JJ continued her briefing, "Doug Hay was the third teacher to die in Baltimore in the last three months. The first was Jeff Blaylock, forty years old, a teacher at Heritage Park Elementary School. He was killed three months ago walking home from school late one evening. He was stabbed three times, twice in the chest and once in the leg severing the femoral artery. He bled out." The profilers looked at the picture of a good looking middle aged man with dark eyes and hair smiling into the camera and then one of him lying on the ground, covered in blood.

"Two months later, the second victim," JJ clicked the remote and another dark haired man's picture appeared on the screen, "was Keith Fenmore, thirty-seven. He taught at Lincoln Middle School. He too was killed on his way home from school. He was riding his bike when he was most likely hit by a car. That wasn't the COD, however. He was found at the side of the road, his mangled bike a few yards away from him. He was also stabbed and bled out." She clicked the remote again and the dead man's body appeared on the screen in a pool of his own blood.

"Then last night," JJ clicked the remote again, "Doug Hay," the picture showed another dark haired man in a similar age range to the previous two. A second click showed his body but the blood had been washed away by the elements.

"They're the same type," Morgan noted, "all dark haired, same approximate age."

"All teachers," Prentiss added. "The unsub was probably abused once by a teacher who looked very much like these men."

"I can't find any connection between the men other than that they were all teachers and all single," Garcia, dressed this morning in a bright yellow suit, reported looking at her laptop.

"So are we to assume that that puts any fortyish dark haired male teachers in danger?" JJ asked.

"Yeah and the scary thing is he's lessening the time between kills," Reid said. "First it was two months, then one month. He could be devolving."

"Okay," Hotch ordered, "we'll drive to Baltimore since it's so close. Dave, I want you and Morgan to take the first two schools and talk to the staff about Blaylock and Fenmore. Prentiss, the coroner. I'll cover the Weinthorpe Academy. JJ, you and Reid set up at the precinct. Reid, start working on victimology and a geographic profile. We don't know what kind of timeline we're working with anymore. Alright everyone, let's move."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Emily Prentiss looked down at the lifeless body of Doug Hay on a slab in Baltimore's morgue. Dr. Vic Tashita, fiftyish, Emily thought, with grey beginning to streak his black hair, stood on the other side of the slab. He was a little shorter than Emily herself and very handsome she noted. The harsh bright lights of the morgue shone down on the unfortunate corpse while Dr. Tashita's assistant, Ann, went to retrieve files of the other two murders.

Doug Hay was now dry, not soaked as he had been on the pictures they'd seen in the conference room. Emily could see now, unimpeded by the darkness and the stormy weather, the many stab wounds inflicted on the man's body as the knife had ripped through his flesh to the organs and blood vessels below. Ann entered the room and handed two files to Dr. Tashita before leaving them alone.

He opened the first one and showed Emily the photos that had been taken of victim number one, Jeffery Blaylock. "This might have been this attacker's first kill," the doctor stated. "Notice," he said pointing at the photos, "that these wounds on his torso were tentative and not deep. They entered mostly muscle and soft tissue and would have hurt the victim but not killed him. There were defensive wounds on his hands so he did put up a struggle. The killer managed to slash his left femoral artery." He handed Emily a picture of the cut left leg. "Then it was game over for poor Mr. Blaylock, I'm afraid."

He opened the file on Keith Fenmore. "Mr. Fenmore was riding his bike when he was hit from behind by a vehicle. There were some lacerations and a large hematoma on his head." The doctor pointed these out in the photographs. "This victim didn't exhibit any defensive wounds but that could have been because he was momentarily stunned when he hit the pavement hard. His bike was quite mangled. His knife wounds were all to the torso and abdomen and were deeper than those on the body of the first victim. The killer hit Mr. Fenmore's aorta and he bled out rather quickly. The cuts on all three victims were made with a smooth edged knife with a sharp tip; my guess would be about ten inches long.

Vic Tashita now turned to the body that lay on his examination table. "Mr. Hay's attack was even more violent than Mr. Fenmore's. As you can see, these cuts are deeper and more savage in nature than the first two. These stab wounds hit major organs. There are no defensive wounds on the victim although it was a frontal attack and from the angle of the wounds, the assailant was shorter than the victim."

"So, what you're saying is that Blaylock was blitzed from behind and Fenmore was knocked over by a vehicle but the third victim was able to see his attacker coming at him but didn't put up any fight?"

"I'm saying that Mr. Hay saw his attacker before the attack. Perhaps with the storm he wasn't seeing things clearly and was unaware of the danger until his assailant was upon him."

"Thank you Dr. Tashita," Prentiss said as she turned and left the morgue.

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Reid and JJ entered the Baltimore precinct and were met by Detective Isaac Judd, a tall, well built African American with short cropped hair and striking good looks. JJ thought he looked like a black Adonis. "Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone," JJ said as she reached and shook the man's hand, "this is Dr. Reid."

Reid gave one of his usual waves before Judd reached out his hand, "Pleased to meet you. I wasn't exactly sure if I should call you. I didn't know for sure if I had a serial killer on my hands or just three murders that had a lot of coincidences," the detective explained.

"The similarities were close enough for us to believe it's a pattern," Reid responded. "You were definitely right to call us."

"Do you have a place where we can set up? The rest of the team split up to visit the schools and the morgue," JJ informed him.

"Judd led them to a small conference room. "I hope this will do," he said.

"It'll be fine," Reid said. "I'll need your files on all three victims, a lap top so we can keep in touch with our analyst at Quantico, a large city map if you have one and a pot of strong coffee."

"Coming right up," Judd said as he left the room.

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Rossi and Morgan entered Heritage Park Elementary School and proceeded to the front desk housed in a large room behind a wall of smoky glass, flashed their badges and asked to speak to the principal. The extremely stout matronly like woman behind the desk wearing a white jersey top and an almost floor length plaid pleated skirt, that seemed to call attention to her size rather than hide it, waddled off in search of her boss. Shortly a man no taller than 5'8", balding with the few strands of grey hair that remained on the top of his head combed back, entered the room from one of the back offices. His blue eyes were hidden behind round wire rimmed glasses and his thin lips were pressed together in irritation. He quickly covered this up as he approached the agents. Rossi and Morgan again produced their badges. "SSA Rossi," he indicated his partner, "this is SSA Morgan from the FBI. We're here regarding the death of Jeff Blaylock. If you could answer a few questions for us we'd appreciate it."

"Len Pearson, I don't know how I can help you but please, come to my office." He opened the waist high door that allowed them behind the desk. "Please sit down," he said, indicating two chairs in front of his desk. He went around the desk and sat in his large swivel chair. "What do you think I can do for you?" he said.

"Can you tell us a bit about Jeff Blaylock?" Rossi asked.

"He was a nice man, well liked by his coworkers and his students. He was devoted to his students." Rossi paused for a moment thinking those were the same words Reid had used to describe Doug Hay.

"Did he ever have a problem with anyone outside the school that you know of?" Morgan said.

"Not that I know of; as far as I know, Jeff didn't have a life outside the school. He was quite brilliant and well, what you'd call a nerd I suppose. When you needed an answer, he was your go to guy, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, we have some idea," Rossi replied.

"Was it normal for him to stay late at the school?" Morgan inquired.

"Oh yes, Jeff was always the last to leave. I never dreamed he'd be attacked but he wasn't really the physical type so I guess an attacker would stand a good chance of getting the better of him."

"Thank you for your time Mr. Pearson," Rossi said as he stood and shook the man's hand.

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"Tim Curtis, principal or headmaster, whatever term you prefer to use," the sandy haired middle aged man said as he shook Hotch's hand. "It's devastating what happened to Doug but more so that it happened on school property. I've had a devil of a time trying to convince the children and their parents that the children are safe. Anything I can do to help catch this guy, I'll do."

"Can you tell me about Doug Hay?"

"I'll tell you what I know which isn't much. Doug was a very devoted teacher. That's all he ever wanted to do. He was something of a science nerd. He majored in chemistry in college thinking he'd go into the family business. His father owns Hay Pharmaceuticals but I guess the teaching bug bit him and he decided to become a teacher. I believe it was a sore spot between him and his father. But Doug was an avid reader and knowledgeable in so many areas. The other teachers were always trying to get him to go on Jeopardy but he said he didn't need the money. I think he got a huge trust fund from his father that he didn't even touch."

"Do you know of anyone who might want to harm him?" Hotch asked.

"That question's been going around in my mind since I heard this had happened," Curtis replied. "Who could do this to a great guy like Doug? He was nerdy but he was funny. He always had time for the kids. He was voted Baltimore teacher of the year once for God's sake. His life really was his work. He didn't have a girlfriend or any outside activities, really, so I can't think of anyone who would do this."

"Okay, thank you for your time. I'm just going to go out and look at the scene." Hotch knew there wasn't much point to this as the rain had washed everything away but he wanted to get a feel for the crime scene all the same.

He didn't have to look up at the windows of the Weinthorpe Academy to feel the eyes upon him. "Is that one of the guys who works with your dad?" Jamal asked as he and Fletcher watched Hotch in the parking lot.

"He's not really my dad," Fletcher replied.

"Okay, your pretend dad?"

"Yeah, that's Hotch, he's the head guy. The team will find out who did this. You can bet your allowance on that."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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The members of the team entered the conference room to find pictures of the three victims up on a white board with various points of similarity scribbled underneath each one in Reid's messy scrawl. Hotch had always assumed it was because his hand couldn't work as fast as his mind. In time they'd all come to understand it however. They also noticed a large map of Baltimore was tacked to a bulletin board with red pins at the site of each of the murders. Reid and JJ had been busy.

The team sat around the table to share what they had learned. "So, he's getting more violent with each crime," Morgan said after Emily had divulged what she had learned at the coroner's office.

"That, coupled with the increased timeline could mean he's devolving," Hotch said, "and fast. We have no idea when his next kill will be."

"All three were described the same way by each of the principals, smart, nerdy, totally devoted to their students and none, it appeared, had a life outside work," Rossi remarked.

"So what you're saying is they're all older versions of Reid?" Morgan snickered.

"I have a life outside the BAU Morgan. Ask Fletcher or Phoebe."

"All three were voted teacher of the year at one point. Do you think that had anything to do with the killer targeting them?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, Garcia easily found that on the net so he could too," Reid added.

"Perhaps he was abused by a teacher that these men remind him of and the fact that they were all named teacher of the year irks him somehow," Emily postulated as she reached for her coffee.

"The geographic profile is going nowhere," Reid said standing and going to the map. "Jeff Blaylock was killed on Chester Street." He indicated the pin on the map. "While Keith Fenmore was killed on Homestead Street in the same general area of the city;" he pointed to the second pin. "But Doug Hay was killed at Weinthorpe Academy on Silver Springs Road in another section of town altogether. If we triangulate," he said as he drew lines connecting the three murder sites, "we've got a really big area for our unsub's comfort zone."

"Maybe there were no more teachers who fit the unsub's parameters in that part of town," Rossi suggested.

"The first two murders were in rather middle class areas of the city while the third is in a higher rent district. Do you think moving up to a higher class victim is causing the unsub to become more violent?" Morgan asked.

"Hard to say," Hotch answered. "Okay I think we're ready to give the profile."

Officers gathered in the bullpen, some sitting on the chairs, others on the edges of desks while some stood. "The unsub we are looking for is a white male in his twenties," Hotch began.

"How do you know that?" one of the officers asked.

"Would you shut up and listen for once in your life Minnelli," another officer threw back at him.

"It's a valid question," Morgan responded. "Firstly serial killers rarely go outside their own racial lines. Secondly the fact that these are fortyish teachers, our killer likely had a teacher about that age that he despises for some reason, probably abuse."

"We also know from the coroner that, judging from the angle of the knife thrusts, the unsub is shorter in stature than Doug Hay who was 5'11"," Prentiss added.

"The first two murders were on Chester Street and Homestead Street, relatively in the same section of the city while the third was on Silver Springs Road much farther away from the first two. Serial killers operate within what we call comfort zones which is an area in which they usually live and work." Reid pointed to the large area on the map. "However, serial killers will occasionally stray outside their comfort zones when their confidence has grown through experience or to avoid detection."

"The coroner's report also tells us," Rossi said, "that in the first murder the cuts were tentative and less deep. It was likely our unsub's first kill. That tells us that something happened in this man's life three months ago to cause him to begin his killing spree. We call that the stressor."

"So how do we find out what happened to this guy to make him go nutso?" Minnelli asked.

"Nutso is not really the word," Reid babbled rapidly. "Most people think that all serial killers suffer from a variety of personality disorders, psychopathy, sociopathy and others but, in reality, most are not considered insane by the law."

"His kills have gotten more violent each time," Rossi continued, "which tells us that this killer is gaining skill, experience and confidence with each new offense. He's gone from attacking from behind to a frontal attack, much more daring. It's as if he wants his face to be the last thing his victim sees before he dies."

"The fact that his timeline is shrinking is disturbing," Reid stated. "This means he could be devolving. He can't wait as long between kills. We have no idea when he'll strike again. We should sift through any footage of the crime scenes and see if the same person keeps appearing in the crowd. Unsubs sometimes like to revisit their scenes to view the reaction to their handiwork."

"So far his victims have been dark haired fortyish male teachers, single with few activities outside their work," Prentiss added.

"They've all been voted teacher of the year and we think that fact is significant to this killer," Morgan stated.

"Something happened to make this man begin killing." Hotch told the assembled group. "If we can find out what that is, it'll be our best chance at catching him. His friends and neighbors will likely be surprised when they find out he's done this. He may not live a "normal" life," Hotch made quotation marks with his fingers, "but he's developed a taste for killing as evidenced by the increasing savagery of his attacks. We won't have long to find him until he kills again."

"So what you're saying." Isaac Judd remarked, "is that all dark haired, single, fortyish male teachers voted teacher of the year in Baltimore are in danger."

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He paced his room. He seemed unable to sit for any length of time anymore. He should be relaxing now, shouldn't he? He went to the top drawer of his bureau and removed the knife. He'd bleached and polished it and now all hints of flesh and blood were gone and it gleamed in the sun that now streamed through the window after last night's storm as he turned it slowly in his hands. It was almost over he thought sadly as he realized he didn't want it to be. He felt strong and powerful when he looked into their eyes and saw that they knew the end was near, as he watched the blood ooze from them and flow slowly away until it stopped at last and became dark and thick like the night. He looked at the desk and his laptop that sat there. He finally sat in his desk and picked up the paper. "Let's see who's next."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Theresa Montoya stood on her tip toes trying to grasp a book on the top shelf of the library's stacks when a hand reached past hers and removed the book. "Here, let me get that for you," a male voice said from behind her. She turned to see a man about six feet tall dressed in blue jeans, a navy polo shirt topped with a denim jacket standing behind her. His friendly face was capped off with sandy blond hair that showed hints of auburn when the sun's rays that were streaming through the huge windows hit it. He smiled at her as he held out the book.

"Thank you," Theresa said as she took the book from him.

"I see we're here for the same thing," he said pointing to the book, one on the suggested reading list dealing with the civil war.

"Oh," Theresa held out the book. "You actually got it first."

"Don't worry," he said reaching up to the top shelf, "they have more than one copy. This book's in demand a lot for people taking the GED because it's factual without being overly wordy and hard to understand."

"Are you getting your GED?" Theresa asked.

"Oh no, I graduated high school a long time ago." Theresa thought the man looked about thirty. "I volunteer at a homeless shelter/mission here in DC and one of the things we try to do is educate some of the people who use the shelter. I've found this book really good so I take it out a lot. What about you?" He pointed at the book. "Are you getting your GED?"

"Ches, sometimes it is very hard. I have friends who have been helping me but they are very smart and sometimes I do not understand things as easily as they do."

The man nodded his understanding. "I have a younger sister who's a little slow. She's not retarded; it just takes her a little longer than most to get the answer. I spent a lot of time working with her to get her through high school so I understand where you're coming from." He paused for a moment. "Oh, not that I'm saying you're slow or anything, I didn't mean that. I just meant that I understood you being overwhelmed by being around people you perceive as smarter than you because I saw it in my sister."

"That is alright, I was not offended," Theresa smiled. "So, you are a teacher, ches?"

"Oh God no, I graduated high school but I never went to university. I left that to my smarter sisters. I have four sisters. I'm just a plumber."

"Well, when your toilet is overflowing, you do not need a doctor," Theresa replied, laughing.

"That's true," he said as they turned and started walking toward the huge tables that sat in the middle of this large building near the checkout desk. "We have a study session every Thursday night at the shelter. You're welcome to join us if you like. There're only about six students and we all try to help them help each other through areas that are causing problems."

"Thank you, that is very kind…"

"Oh Justin, Justin Wade," he held out his hand.

"Theresa Montoya," she said as she shook his hand.

"It's nice to meet you Theresa and like I said you're welcome any time." He took a pencil and a piece of paper from the stack by the card catalogue and began writing. "This is the address. We usually meet at seven." He handed her the paper. "I better get going; I have to install a dishwasher. I hope to see you at the shelter sometime." He smiled again. "Bye," he said as he took the book to the checkout desk.

"Bye," Theresa said as she watched Justin Wade walk away. She looked at the address printed neatly on the paper and smiled.

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Fletcher put his Applied Calculus textbook on the nightstand and bounded off his bed. All classes had been canceled due to Doug Hay's untimely demise. Fletcher looked out the window into the bright sunshine. He could see where Mr. Hay's car and his body had been. Both had been removed; there was no large pool of blood because of the rain and all that remained was the yellow crime scene tape that roped off the area where the murder had taken place. Why hadn't he been looking out there last night? It wasn't like he was sleeping; who could sleep through that thunder. If he'd been looking out, maybe he would have been able to help Spencer like he'd done in San Francisco. Everybody must have been awake. What were the odds that nobody was looking out their window? Maybe somebody saw something they didn't realize they'd seen. He knew Jamal hadn't gotten up; he would have heard him.

"What are you thinking?" Jamal asked.

"I was just wondering what the chances were of someone looking out the window at or around the time of the murder and seeing something they're maybe not even aware of."

"Mathematically you mean, I could figure them out for you," Jamal offered.

"No, I don't mean that but half the dorm windows face that parking lot so out of 350 students, 175 could have seen something."

"Sooo," Jamal considered, nodding his head, "you'd think someone would have looked out the window when it's thundering and lightning like crazy."

"Right," Fletcher agreed, "so maybe we should ask around; couldn't hurt. And I mean Edmund Burke was right when he said, the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

"We're not exactly men but I'm with you."

"Okay then, let's make a list of everybody whose room is on this side of the building." The black and blond heads hunched together over a notebook.

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"What have you got for us baby girl?" Morgan said into his cell.

"I've looked at all the footage from the security cameras in the parking lot at Weinthorpe and I gotta tell ya, I got nothin'.

"How can that be Garcia?" Reid asked. "I was shown all the security measures when Fletcher was admitted. The parking lot was very well lit and there were numerous cameras."

"I know that Reid but the storm interfered with the power for the lights and the cameras. Also the wind shook the cameras so much and the rain was like a sheet in front of the lens that nothing was visible. I've had them through every kind of filter and I can't get a clear picture of anything."

"Thanks for trying Garcia, anything else?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing that's of any use, okay, I've been over all the footage of all three murder scenes and I can't spot the same person in the crowd in either of the first two. There's barely any crowd at the third site because the school is gated on private property and it seems every effort was made to keep the students away and shield them from it."

Thank God for that, Reid thought as he looked at the pictures on the whiteboard. That's all Fletcher would need to add to his nightmares. Fletcher had said counselors were coming. Perhaps he should find out whom and mention the nightmares. "Reid," he heard Hotch say loudly, "are you with us?"

"Yeah, yeah Hotch, of course," Reid answered shaking himself from his reverie.

"Morgan and Emily are going to speak to Jeff Blaylock's sister in Fredrick. Rossi and JJ are going to speak with Keith Fenmore's parents and Doug Hay's father. I'm going to Weinthorpe again since it's the only murder that occurred on the school property. I'm going to speak to the teachers and an assembly of the students. I think you should come with me. The teachers know you and it will be less intimidating for them at this time."

"Okay Hotch, let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Morgan and Prentiss pulled up outside a small bungalow on College Avenue in the town of Fredrick, Maryland. A small front yard and a cracked cement walkway led to the house that was painted an uninspiring tan color, the paint chipped in places. The roof was topped with brown shingles. Leaves were softly wafting downward from an elm tree in the front yard and the grass was taking on the brown hue of fall. Trisha Wilkes, Jeff Blaylock's sister, had been surprised to hear from the FBI. She'd thought that after three months Baltimore PD had given up on finding her brother's killer. "Come in," she said in a thick southern drawl. She was medium height, a little on the pudgy side with her brown hair pulled back in a pony tail. She wore blue jeans and a sweat shirt. "Gerald's at work and the kids aren't home from school yet." She showed them to the living room that was neat and tidy although the furniture was somewhat worn. Baseball caps and video games confirmed that children lived in this house.

"Mrs. Wilkes," Emily began, "we believe your brother was a target of a serial killer out to get teachers of a certain age and physical characteristics. Two others have been killed since your brother."

"What was it about my brother that would make somebody want to kill him? Jeff was a very gentle man."

"We've no doubt that he was," Morgan replied. "We think the killer is looking for a certain type of man because a man like this may have abused him as a child and these teachers represent that man in the killer's mind."

"Jeff was a bit of a geek, you know, always had his head in a book. He took a lot of crap at school from the jocks. I remember one time he went to a school dance, we talked him into it, he really didn't want to go and he wore a tie. The jocks laughed at him for wearing it. They were pulling him around the room by it. They almost choked him and everyone was laughing." Her eyes began to water and she reached for a tissue. "He never wore anything but a clip on bow tie since that day."

"Was your brother very predictable in his routine?" Emily asked.

"Oh yeah," she let out a little laugh. "You could set your watch by him. He left the school at the same time every day and walked the same route home. He never varied."

"Okay, Mrs. Wilkes, I think that's all we need," Morgan said.

The pair got up and headed for the door followed by Trisha Wilkes, "Please find out who did this to my brother."

"We'll do our best, thank you for your help," Emily told the woman patting her briefly on the shoulder before going out the door and walking to the SUV.

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Rossi and JJ heard a similar story from Keith Fenmore's parents. He was a gentle geeky guy who always rode his bike to school, even in winter. He wasn't physical in any way, just very smart and devoted to his students, Jean Fenmore had told them.

"Why is the FBI suddenly interested in my son's death?" Ralph Fenmore asked.

"The third murder which occurred last night has led us to believe there's a pattern to these killings," Rossi informed him.

"Are you sure that's it?" Ralph argued, "or was the FBI called in because, this time, it was a rich man's son that was killed?"

"No, that is definitely not the case," JJ replied, noting the bitterness in the man's voice and in his words.

"Sometimes," Rossi added, "it takes a third murder to differentiate between coincidences and discern an actual pattern. The three men that were killed were very alike and now we have something we can go on to build a profile and find this killer," he explained. The agents stood as did the Fenmores to head for the door.

At the door JJ turned back to the Fenmores, "I promise we will do everything we can to bring Keith's killer to justice. I'm sorry for your loss."

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Hotch and Reid entered the front door of the Weinthorpe Academy and asked the ever present Mrs. Halliday if they could speak with Principal Curtis.

"Of course," Mrs. Halliday responded giving Reid an appreciative glance that seemed to Hotch to last a little longer than was necessary. "It's nice to see you again Dr. Reid," she said, looking like a school girl talking to her big crush.

My God, Hotch thought as Reid nodded politely at the woman, first it's an actress, then hookers, then a bartender, then teachers, then Mexican nannies and now middle aged school secretaries. What's next, he wondered, grannies, as he considered this je ne sais quoi Reid seemed to have with women. The young profiler, for all his genius, seemed totally oblivious to the fact.

They followed Mrs. Halliday to the principal's office. Tim Curtis greeted them pleasantly enough but his body language betrayed the tenseness he felt at being in charge of an institution where a murder had occurred. He'd been on the phone with anxious parents all day as he tried to keep the faculty, who had lost one of their own, focused on the children while he dealt with his own sense of loss.

Dr. Curtis, we'd like to speak briefly with the teachers and then we'd like to assemble the students," Hotch told the principal.

"Certainly, just give me a few minutes to round them up," Curtis said as he left the office.

----------------------

JJ and Rossi were now winding along Ranchleigh Road in a much more affluent area of the city to the home of Doug Hay's father, Winston Hay, founder and principal stockholder of Hay Pharmaceuticals. Rossi drove through the gates and up the semicircular drive to the front of the mansion. Their ringing of the doorbell was answered by a woman in a crisp navy blue uniform. JJ and Rossi flashed their badges, introducing themselves.

"Come in," the woman said, "they're expecting you."

Rossi and JJ were led to a large room filled with richly upholstered couches and chairs in a pewter shade accompanied by mahogany tables. Winston Hay sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair between the two sofas. His gray hair was thinning and, it appeared, so was his body. The clothes he wore had once clad a much larger man. His complexion was sallow in contrast to his eyes which were red and swollen. His lips were pursed to aid his breathing and nasal cannula led from his nose to an oxygen tank that sat in a metal holder that could be wheeled about as Mr. Hay moved. Standing beside the chair was a bald black man in navy scrubs that JJ and Rossi took to be Winston Hay's nurse.

"Agents Rossi and Jareau from the FBI," the woman said and then turned and left the room.

"Mr. Hay, I know this is a very bad time for you," JJ said stepping forward. "We're sorry to have to do this now."

"Please, sit down, I'll help you any way I can," Winston Hay replied in a raspy voice. He stopped for a few moments as he was out of breath. "Damned COPD, the doctor says I don't have long." He paused again, breathless. He gestured to them with his hand. "Ask your questions."

"Mr. Hay," Rossi began, "we feel your son's murder is the work of a killer responsible for two other murders in the city. The others were teachers like Doug, same age range and alike physically. They'd all been named teacher of the year. Did Doug ever mention feeling like he was being watched or stalked? We think the killer must have watched his victims to get their routine down."

"No, never said anything to me, not that we talked a lot," he wheezed and began to cough, "Terry, my inhaler," he gasped. The nurse reached into the drawer of one of the mahogany end tables and produced an inhaler that his patient put in his mouth and inhaled like his life depended on it. It probably did, Rossi thought.

Hay laughed bitterly which only seemed to trigger another bout of raspy coughing, "What's the point of owning a God damned pharmaceutical company if it can't help you when you're sick."

"Sir, perhaps you'd like a Lorazepam," Terry offered. "It might relax you. You're getting upset and you know how that affects your breathing."

"Of course I'm upset," he pursed his lips and wheezed some more. "My son was murdered."

JJ looked at Rossi; it didn't seem to her that he knew much about his son's life. Her expression said perhaps they should leave before they made the man's condition worse. Rossi nodded, "That's all for now Mr. Hay." He and JJ stood, "We'll see ourselves out."

"Just because we didn't talk a lot," he said slowly, trying to conserve his energy and his breath, "doesn't mean I didn't love my boy. I wanted him to run the company one day and when he went to university and took chemistry I said okay, so he'll go into the research end of things." He stopped again and put up his hand for them to wait until he caught his breath. "But then he fell in love with teaching. I was angry for a long time but I could see he loved it. The only consolation in this is that it won't be long until I see my boy again," he wheezed, "but I hope to see you catch that bastard before I do."

"We hope so too Mr. Hay," Rossi replied.

--------------------

Jamal and Fletcher were among the throng of students that were filing into the gymnasium to hear what the two FBI agents had to say. Fletcher was wondering if Spencer was one of the agents when Jamal nudged him and said loud enough to be heard above the din of the students, "It's actually a good thing you didn't see anything this time. You wouldn't want the murderer coming after you like in San Francisco."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------

Hotch and Reid had finished talking to the faculty and had gleaned no new information on Doug Hay. They all said Hay had never mentioned the feeling of being watched or stalked. "Do you think there's any significance to the fact that Doug was attacked at the school? None of the others were. I've been telling parents all day that their children are in no danger, but am I right in telling them that?" Tim Curtis asked them, then added, "Sorry Dr. Reid, I know you have to consider the case but also Fletcher's welfare and if you tell me you're not worried about his safety here then I won't be either."

"I'm fairly sure the kids have nothing to be afraid of," Reid told the principal. "This offender is after a certain type, all teachers, all the same age group, similar in looks."

"The profile tells us that killing this target," Hotch added, "fills some need in him and he wouldn't suddenly change to children."

"I think the reason he came to the school was because he had to. The other two victims were easy targets, one walked and one rode a bike," Reid explained, "so he had to catch Doug Hay before he got into his car, either here or at his home. He probably chose here because a strange man would be much more noticeable to the people who live on Hay's street."

"Okay, that's reassuring. I'll go check and make sure all the students are assembled." Tim Curtis left, striding in the direction of the gymnasium.

"Reid, I was wondering if it would be better if you talked to the kids," Hotch suggested.

"Hotch, you know I'm not really good at this type of thing. I always wonder why they keep sending me to these recruitment things at the universities. The last time I went with Rossi they looked at me like I was nuts, well, except for Professor Rothchild and he was nuts so how reassuring is that?"

"Reid, you were able to connect with Fletcher and basically these kids are a lot like him. You were these kids twenty years ago," Hotch reminded him.

Reid was quiet for a moment, "Okay Hotch, but if this turns out badly, don't blame me," he said as the pair made their way to the gymnasium.

--------------------------

Prentiss and Morgan arrived back at the precinct shortly before Rossi and JJ. The foursome was comparing notes when Morgan's cell rang. "Talk to me baby girl."

"I've been all over these guys' business and I can't find anything in common. They all graduated from different universities. They all belonged to the Maryland Teachers' Society but then most teachers do. Other than that they didn't belong to any of the same groups, shop at the same places, go to the same gym. Well, none of them actually belong to a gym. The only thing I can find that they had in common is their age, their looks and the fact that they're on that teacher of the year list."

"Okay, thanks for trying mama," Morgan closed his phone.

"Back to square one," Prentiss lamented.

"Did we ever get to square two?" Rossi asked.

-----------------------

Reid looked over the group of assembled students that had filed into the gymnasium. Principal Curtis had had a lectern set up and stood behind it as he spoke into the microphone. "Quiet please, everyone. We have two agents here from the FBI who are investigating what happened to Mr. Hay." Fletcher, sitting in the second row, caught Reid's eye and gave him the thumbs up sign. "These are agents Hotchner and Reid and they'd like to talk to you. Agents…" he said, gesturing with his hand that they had the floor.

Reid stepped slowly up to the lectern and cleared his throat. "Hi, I'm Agent Reid but a lot of you have probably seen me here before. My fellow agents and I are doing our utmost to catch the man responsible for killing Mr. Hay. I know you're all upset at the loss of your teacher and Principal Curtis has people coming in to help you all through that. I know your minds are questioning why this killer chose Mr. Hay and we're looking into that. If anyone saw anything involving Mr. Hay and another man at anytime, we," he indicated himself and Hotch, "would appreciate if you would come forward and tell us about it. No incident is too small to mention. If anyone saw anything on the night of the murder, that would be helpful also. We'd like to reassure you that this man was after Mr. Hay and, even though he was outside your school, it's extremely unlikely he'll return so none of you are in danger." Reid turned his head and looked at Hotch who nodded. "That's it; thank you for your time and if you have anything to contribute please get in touch with Agent Hotchner or me. We'll leave our numbers with Principal Curtis." Reid turned away from the lectern and heaved a sigh of relief while Tim Curtis spoke to the students, dismissing them for the time being. They began a mass exodus of the gymnasium.

Reid noticed Fletcher and Jamal coming toward the stage. He motioned to Hotch, who was talking to Tim Curtis about the counselors that were coming, that he was going to talk to the boys. "How are you doing bud?" he asked when he reached the pair.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry about Mr. Hay. I liked him. You're gonna catch this guy, right?"

"We're going to do our best," Reid replied. "What about you Jamal, you okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about Fletcher and me," the boy said as he nudged his friend and roommate.

"Okay, okay, Spencer, Jamal and I had this idea. We figured somebody probably saw something last night and didn't realize it or is too scared to say anything. It was a big storm, really loud with lots of thunder and lightning. It was impossible to sleep. We figure somebody must have been looking out their window. Half the dorms face that parking lot, that's 175 chances that somebody saw something."

"Well, actually only 173 chances," Jamal interjected, "because we know Fletcher and I didn't see anything. I used the hypergeometric distribution theory to calculate the odds. I could probably get it closer by factoring in the different ages if I knew the exact time he died but from my calculations…"

"Hold on just a minute." Reid held up his hands. "What is all this calculating supposed to achieve?"

"The odds are high Spencer that one of those173 students saw something," Fletcher explained excitedly. "So, I think you should bring them all in for questioning."

"Bring 173 kids in for questioning," Reid whispered to himself. It wasn't that he doubted the validity of Fletcher and Jamal's calculations. He was pretty sure they were right. "Okay, uh…listen guys, as good an idea as that might be, I don't think it will work for us."

"Why not?" the duo said as one.

"We can't just bring 173 minors in for questioning, especially after they just suffered the loss of a popular teacher. If we haul them all in and start interrogating them, it will be the biggest public relations nightmare in FBI history." Strauss' angry face popped into his mind.

"It's not that bad, I survived it," Fletcher reminded Reid.

"Just barely," Jamal added only to be elbowed by Fletcher. "Sorry."

"We'll catch this guy and we'll do it the way we always do, by using the profile. I really appreciate that you guys want to help though." He looked back and saw Hotch had finished talking to the principal. "Okay, I've got to head back to the precinct with Hotch. I don't know when I'll get a chance to see you but definitely before we head back, okay?"

"Okay," the dejected boys echoed. They turned and headed out of the gymnasium.

"What was that all about?" The unit chief had come up behind Reid.

"Hotch, you really don't want to know."

Fletcher and Jamal walked slowly down the hallway towards their dorm room. "I guess we can file that idea under 'G'," Jamal said.

"I don't give up that easy," Fletcher responded. "If the FBI doesn't want to question them, we'll just have to do it ourselves."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------

Once Hotch and Reid got back to the precinct they heard the results of the various interviews that had been conducted and that Garcia had still been unable to find any commonalities between the victims. "Morgan," Hotch ordered, "Call Garcia; get her to look back and see if there were any complaints about a teacher fitting this description, especially if this person was ever teacher of the year. Tell her to go as far back as twenty years if she can." Morgan left the room to make the phone call.

--------------------------

"So what are we doing out here?" Jamal asked from just outside the yellow taped area where Doug Hay had been killed the night before.

Fletcher ducked under the tape. "Profilers still go to the crime scene even when there's nothing to see so they get to see what the unsub saw. It's called walking the grid." Fletcher looked at the trees to his left and the school to his right.

"From where you're standing," Jamal said, "the trees at either side of the dorms, especially the way they were swaying last night, would make it difficult for anyone in the end rooms to see much of anything." He pointed to the windows in question. "Those on the third floor would only have gotten a view of the top of the guy's head. The best view would be from the middle sections of the first and second floors," the boy concluded.

"You're right, let's start with them," Fletcher replied. "Uh oh," he added as Jamal turned to see Principal Curtis hurrying across the parking lot.

"What do you two think you're doing?" he said angrily. "You know better than this Fletcher. This isn't some curiosity. This is where Mr. Hay was killed."

"He just wanted to walk the grid and get a feel for the unsub," Jamal filled in for the astonished principal.

"I do not want any of the students out here getting a 'feel' for the unsub, as you put it. Alright you two, back to the school right now and count yourselves lucky that I don't want to make this situation any worse or you'd both be disciplined." Fletcher pouted and ducked under the tape. As he and Jamal walked side by side in front of Tim Curtis toward the school, a pair of wide green eyes contrasted by red pigtails looked out at them from a room on the first floor.

----------------------------

"I just had a thought!" Reid exclaimed excitedly as he looked at the list of teachers of the year that Garcia had sent to them.

"What is it Reid?" Hotch asked from his place in front of the white board that offered no answers.

"I think the killer has a pattern. I might be able to figure out who the next victim will be. We need to get pictures of all these people. We gotta call Garcia." Reid's cell rang as he was pulling it out of his pocket. "It's Principal Curtis, maybe he's thought of something. Reid," he said into the instrument, putting it on speaker.

"Dr. Reid, I'm sorry to bother you; I know you're busy," came the voice from the phone.

"That's fine Principal Curtis, did you think of something?" Reid asked.

"Please, call me Tim and no, I'm calling about something else. I found Fletcher and Jamal snooping around the murder site. Jamal was on the outside of the tape but Fletcher was on the inside. Jamal told me Fletcher was walking the grid, trying to get a feel for the unsub. All I need with everything that's happened is two students running around trying to get the feel for a serial killer. I thought I should let you know," the principal relayed.

Reid's mouth took on a grim line and he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Tim. I'll speak to Fletcher. Thank you for letting me know."

"Considering the present state of affairs, I didn't discipline the boys. I realize that all young boys like to role play. It's a healthy outlet. I also know that their role playing usually revolves around the significant male in their lives. They want to be just like dad or, in this case, you. I just thought that the current situation being what it is, it wasn't a really good idea for Fletcher and Jamal to be running around pretending to be little FBI agents. What happened to Doug Hay wasn't a game."

"Tim, Fletcher, more than anyone else in that school, understands the seriousness of this. He wants to help. It's genuine but I'll speak to him. Thank you for calling me. Bye Tim."

"Reid?" Hotch looked at his youngest profiler suspiciously.

"The boys told me this morning that they wanted to help. They asked me what I thought the odds were that one of the 173 students housed on the side of the school facing the parking lot was looking out the window at the time of the murder considering the loudness and severity of the storm. Jamal even figured out the odds using the hypergeometric distribution principle and he concluded that those odds are very high."

"Yeah, well that's what I always use when I want to figure things like that out," Morgan interjected rolling his eyes.

"Seriously Morgan, I did the calculations myself on the way back from the school and the boys are right. The odds are very high that one of those students was looking out their window."

"I didn't notice you doing any calculations," Hotch remarked.

Reid tapped the side of his head with his index finger. "They suggested we bring everyone on that side of the school in for questioning." He raised his hand when Hotch was about to speak. "I told them bringing 173 minors in for questioning would be impossible."

"You're not kidding," JJ replied. "We'd have to inform all the parents and make sure all the kids had representation. It'd be a nightmare."

"JJ do you want to call Garcia and have her send us pictures of all the people on this list?" He held up the list of teachers of the year. "I have an idea. I'll just go call Fletcher, sorry Hotch." Reid stood and left the room.

---------------------

"So, how do we do this?" Jamal asked. "Should we go right up and ask people or should we try and be sneaky and slip it into a conversation, like say at dinner?"

"Sneaking it into a conversation wouldn't be so hard with the guys but we don't have that much to do with the girls so it would look suspicious if we suddenly went up and started talking to them," Fletcher responded. "I suppose you could use your natural charm. Tiesha seems to like you," he smirked as Jamal sent a pillow flying across the room.

"That's only because I told Mikey to stop picking on her."

"So, do you think she'll talk to you? Maybe one of the girls told her something. Ya gotta try. Morgan would go for it. He's always getting girls' numbers. Maybe you're just like him." Fletcher ducked as Jamal came flying across the room at him. The boys wrestled each other to the floor and ended up in a fit of laughter. Fletcher's cell rang. "Hey, it's Spencer!"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------------

"I suppose drivers' license photos will do. Reid just said to ask you to get pictures and that he had an idea," JJ said into her cell.

"What sort of idea sweet girl?" Garcia asked.

"Garcia, you know none of us have the slightest idea what goes on in Reid's mind. We're just glad that it does."

"Ya got that right but if our junior G man says he has an idea, it's probably a good one."

"Speaking of junior G men," JJ laughed, "Reid's got a bit of a problem…"

-------------------

"Hi Spencer," Fletcher said brightly.

"Don't hi Spencer me as if you've been sitting in your room all day studying," Reid yelled as quietly as he could into his cell, trying not to call attention to himself. "I got a call from the principal. He told me what you two have been up to."

"We didn't do anything Spencer," the boy responded. "We just stood there and tried to figure out who'd have the best chance of seeing something. We narrowed it down to the middle of the first and second floors. We thought we might try to slip it into conversation at din…"

"Are you nuts?" Reid interrupted. "Do you remember what happened to you in San Francisco?"

"Of course Spencer, I'm not apt to forget that Muriel Dressler wanted to kill me. But she had help finding out who I was. How is this unsub going to know that Jamal and I are asking a few questions?"

"We don't know do we because we don't know who this unsub is. We don't know what kind of connections he has."

"I thought you said we'd be safe."

"I did and I think you will be but I don't want it to get out that you're running around asking questions. Leave the investigation to us, okay." There was silence on the line. "Okay," Reid repeated again.

"Okay," Fletcher replied resignedly.

"Good, I've got enough on my mind with the case without worrying about you two trying to play the Hardy Boys."

"Spencer, we weren't trying to be the Hardy Boys. We were trying to be SSAs Reid and Morgan, an unbeatable combination."

"I'm flattered and I'm sure Morgan would be too but really, you guys have got to lay off and leave the investigation to us. Do you hear me Fletcher?"

"Yeah," the boy pouted, "I hear you."

"Okay, I'll see you when I can. Behave yourself."

"I will."

"Okay, bye"

"Bye Spencer, be careful."

Reid ended the call and headed back to the conference room.

"That didn't sound so good," Jamal told his friend.

"Principal Curtis called Spencer and told him what happened. He's mad. He said we should leave the investigation to them."

"I guess that's it then," Jamal replied.

"Well, not necessarily, I mean if we just happen to hear something at dinner conversation, it's not literally investigating, right?"

"Somehow, I don't think that's what Spencer had in mind."

"We're not expected to be mind readers Jamal; we're just innocent children talking at dinner like good little boys."

Jamal's deep brown eyes widened at Fletcher's words, then suddenly narrowed, "Spencer's gonna be really mad when he finds out you disobeyed him."

"Yeah, you're right, he will. He's got a temper but he's also fair. He'll get over it," Fletcher said confidently then whispered under his breath, "I hope."

-----------------

"So, what's this idea?" Morgan asked.

"Okay, look at the victims," Reid said. The team stared at the three victims on the white board and no answers came to them.

"Sorry Reid," Emily said, "I'm looking, but I'm not seeing."

Reid walked up to the board and wrote a number one in blue dry erase marker and beside it he wrote "Blaylock," saying it as he wrote. He wrote a number two, "Fenmore," he said and finally a number three and beside it, "Hay. Do you see now?" he asked.

"Sorry Reid, you're going to have to tell us," JJ replied.

"Alphabetical order," Reid explained. "So if we go through the list and find the next fortyish brown haired man in alphabetical order, we'll likely find our next victim."

"But Reid, they aren't listed in alphabetical order. They're listed in chronological order," Morgan remarked.

"Well maybe the unsub changed them."

"Why would he do that Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Well, I haven't exactly figured that out yet but if our unsub sticks to his routine, the next victim will be…" he ran his finger down the list and accompanying pictures at warp speed, "Eugene Kennedy."

-------------------

The feet that shuffled down to the dining room lacked the usual boisterous enthusiasm of youth. The school was so quiet it was as if a pall hung over it, most of the students rarely speaking and when they did, it was little more than a whisper as if by breaking the silence they would somehow disrespect their fallen teacher.

Fletcher and Jamal got their trays and sat at their usual table with boys of similar ages from their dorm. Once everyone was seated Tim Curtis offered a simple grace expressing thanks for the food and the company and asking that the Lord bless the soul of Doug Hay. When he was done everyone stared at their plates as if enjoying their meal would be somehow impertinent.

Fletcher looked at his grilled chicken breast and picked up his knife and fork. Chicken was one of his favorite meals and he didn't suppose he could help find Mr. Hay's killer by refusing to eat. He cut into the chicken and popped a piece into his mouth. The cook at the school was good, he couldn't deny that, but once you'd lived with Theresa, everyone else was second rate.

"What are you thinking?" Jamal asked as he speared a piece of broccoli with his fork. He was of the opinion that you got rid of the least appealing food first and saved the best for last.

No time like the present, Fletcher thought as he swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "That was quite a storm last night, one for the storm chasers. That lightning was fantastic."

"Did you see the cumulonimbus cloud formations?" Donny Hughes asked.

"Yeah, those clouds were so big and that wind from the cold front was so strong, I thought for sure we might get hail" Brad Finch added.

"It was impossible to sleep with that thunder," Jamal remarked looking at Fletcher.

"Not so," Donny punched Brad on the upper arm. "This guy can sleep through anything. It's a good thing he's got me to wake him up in the morning."

"So you were up watching the storm?" Fletcher asked Donny.

"Heck no, I come from Kansas, right in the middle of Tornado Alley. This was nothing compared to what we see. Wait until your whole family and the dog has hidden in the basement bathroom waiting for the all clear. Then you'd see that that storm was nothing."

"But you weren't sleeping?" Jamal asked.

"No, I was writing up the experiment I'd just done in the lab yesterday. I had to have it printed up for class today for…" he was silent for a few moments, then whispered, "Mr. Hay."

The boys looked silently down at their plates and Fletcher raised his eyes to see Principal Curtis walk by. He put his hand on Donny's shoulder. "I couldn't help but overhear. Are you okay Donald?" The boy only nodded. "I know it's difficult for all of you losing your teacher, especially in this way. The counselors will be here first thing in the morning to help us all through our feelings. Classes will start again the day after tomorrow and maybe you'll feel better once you get back into a routine. It's not a good idea to leave minds as brilliant as yours idle for too long." He looked knowingly at Fletcher and Jamal. "Things will get better guys." He began to circulate the room again as silence once more fell over the table.

So much for his investigation tonight, Fletcher thought, as he began to pick at the rest of his meal.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------------

Reid plopped down on the bed in his hotel room, pulled out his cell and hit speed dial. "Hello," the perky female voice said.

"Hi, how was your day?" Reid asked.

"Hi sweetie, it was good. Where are you and what are you up to, if you can say, that is?" Phoebe's soft voice came through the phone.

"We're in Baltimore. Somebody's killing teachers here. The latest victim was one of the teachers at Fletcher's school." He heard a sharp gasp. "It wasn't Trevor," he said quickly. "I saw him today and he's fine." He heard Phoebe's sigh of relief.

"How's Fletcher handling it?" she asked.

"Well, that's another story. He and Jamal want to help. They fancy themselves as mini FBI agents like Morgan and me and they were determined to try and solve this thing. The principal even caught them snooping around the crime scene."

"Did you talk to Fletcher about it?"

"Yeah, I told him to leave the investigation to us. He wanted us to bring half the students in and question them." Reid sighed as he kicked off his shoes.

"I hope he listened, you get some sleep. You sound beat."

"Yeah, I'm tired. I'd sleep better if you were here with me."

"No you wouldn't, you'd get your second wind and we both know what would happen," she laughed.

"Well yeah, but I'd sleep great after that."

"Down boy, go have a shower, a cold one if you must and get some sleep so you can catch this killer and get home to me."

"Now that's the best incentive I've had in a long time."

"Good, sleep well, love you."

"I love you too Phoebe, good night." Reid ended the call and headed for the shower. Phoebe was right, he needed to sleep.

--------------------

Light from the desk lamp could barely be seen under the door of the dorm room occupied by Fletcher and Jamal. "Too bad Principal Curtis had to come around and ruin our investigation," Jamal opined from his bed.

"Well, we did learn something," Fletcher said looking at his notebook with its list of names. "We can cross Brad and Donny off our list and if we eliminate the end rooms and put the third floor as questionable, that narrows our witness pool down quite a bit." Fletcher turned to see his friend sound asleep. He sighed. "I guess there's not much we can do tonight anyway," he whispered as he shut off the desk lamp and jumped into bed. "Tomorrow's another day."

_The rain fell like sheets. It was like a curtain making it almost impossible to see two feet in front of you. Fletcher squinted his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly. The water ran down the window, the darkness and the swaying trees casting their eerie shadows made the view even more difficult to envisage. He could make out a figure in the distance but it was unclear. Then someone approached the figure, arm raised. Something pointed was held in the fist but he couldn't see it clearly through the downpour. Suddenly lightning flashed and the sky lit up as if someone had switched a light on and everything was brilliantly clear. There he was in the light, Mr. Hay as the knife impaled his flesh again and again and he fell to the ground in a heap, his blood mixing with the pouring rain. Suddenly his body seemed to shrink and it wasn't Mr. Hay but he who lay on the ground, the life oozing out of him. The killer turned toward the window as if sensing his eyes and Muriel Dressler began to laugh._

Fletcher sat up abruptly with a gasp. He was soaking wet. Had he been out in the downpour, he asked himself momentarily? No, he was still in his bed. Jamal was sleeping across the room. So, why was he so wet? His hair was literally plastered to his face. It was sweat, he finally realized, oozing from every pore of his skin. He'd have to change his pajamas. The boy threw back the covers and slid out of bed. The room seemed unexpectedly cold. He gently opened the drawer of his bureau trying not to wake Jamal and tiptoed off to the bathroom. After stripping off his wet pajamas, he dried himself off with a towel and donned a clean pair. He was beginning to feel warmer now. As he padded back to bed he saw his reflection in the window and all at once his dream came flooding back as did the chill that had nothing to do with being wet. He sank beneath the covers again. He was safe he told himself repeatedly. It was just a dream. Muriel Dressler couldn't hurt him, he kept reminding himself until a good time later sleep finally claimed him.

----------------

Tim Curtis sat around the table with the rest of the faculty. "The counselors are coming in the morning and I want every student interviewed. I don't care how well adjusted they might seem. I don't want any parent to come back on the school afterward and say we let their child slip through the cracks." He put some papers on the table. "There's a roster of all the students and the counselors. They said they would need at least twenty minutes with each student. Then they'll weed out who needs more extensive therapy and who's coping well. Let's get a counselor and a time beside each student's name and we'll inform them when they come through at breakfast." The teachers split up the students between them and began to work on interview schedules for the students.

I was wondering," Pat Nelson broke the silence that had settled over the room, "if you were planning on a memorial service Tim, so the kids can pay their respects to Doug?"

"I'll see what the counselors say about it and then I'll decide," Tim replied. "Who's got Fletcher Bancroft on their list?"

"I do," Trevor Langston answered. "Why?"

"What counselor did you put him with?" Tim asked.

"Dr. Beth Ellis, why?" Trevor asked again.

"I'd just like to have a word with her before she sees him," he said as he left the room.

----------------------

The team filed into the conference room at the BPD precinct. They had barely settled themselves in the room when Reid's cell rang. "Hi Garcia," he said into the instrument.

"Good morning sweet cheeks," she replied as Reid held the phone out for the others to hear. "I have a piece of information for you to go along with your alphabetical theory."

"We're listening," Reid said. "What did you find?"

"Okay, when you look the teachers of the year up on the net they're listed in chronological order but the Maryland Teachers' Society puts out quarterly newsletters. In the second newsletter each year there's a bio of the teacher voted teacher of the year the year before," she paused for a moment stressing the next word, "and, there's a list of previous winners with pictures…in alphabetical order."

"Are you sure about this Garcia?" Reid asked.

"Of course baby cakes, I'm looking at it right now."

"Thanks, thanks a lot Garcia," Reid ended the call. "Do you think our unsub could be another teacher?"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------

Theresa picked up her cell phone on the second ring. "Hello Spencer," she said brightly.

"Hi Theresa, how are you?"

"I am doing fine. I am studying hard for the GED. How are you?

"I'm good. I'm calling about Fletcher," Reid responded.

"Fletcher! Is something wrong with mi chico pequeño precioso?"

"No, he's okay." Reid went on to explain about the murder of Doug Hay and the other murders of teachers in the city hearing Theresa gasp at his disclosure. He filled her in on the boys' activities. "I just wondered…I mean it usually cheers him up to get a call from you."

"Spencer, I will call him right away, mi chico pequeño pobre."

"Thanks Theresa," Reid replied and she thought he sounded relieved.

"Do not thank me Spencer. I love to talk to Fletcher. Good bye for now."

------------------

Fletcher let the water from the shower flow over him as he thought about the nightmare he'd had. The vision of Muriel Dressler standing over his dead body with a bloody knife in her hand wouldn't leave him and her laughter reverberated around in his head. He knew he was supposed to tell Spencer whenever he had a nightmare but Spencer had told him yesterday that he had enough on his mind with the case. Spencer definitely didn't need him calling and telling him about his nightmare. He might have bigger problems than Spencer he thought. He had to see one of the counselors today and he hoped his head was clear of the nightmare by then.

Suddenly Jamal was yelling at him, "You awake in there?"

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"You got a phone call."

-----------------

A short, rather plump woman with dark hair cropped in a short but stylish wedge knocked on the principal's door. "Come in," she heard from within.

"Principal Curtis," she said holding out her right hand, "Beth Ellis, I was given a message you wanted to see me."

Tim Curtis stood and shook her hand. "Yes, I just wanted a word with you about one of the students you'll be seeing today. Please sit down."

"You have concerns about one of the students?"

"Well, I don't know if it's an actual concern. Fletcher Bancroft seems to be inordinately interested in Doug Hay's murder. I found him and his roommate at the crime scene but I'm sure Fletcher was the instigator."

Beth Ellis sighed. She wished well meaning people weren't always trying to do her job for her. "Principal Curtis, children are naturally curious, especially children with minds as active as the ones you have here."

"Yes, I realize that, Fletcher is rather estranged from his parents and has only a guardian out here. I just don't know if this curiosity of his is healthy."

"I guess that's why you're not a child psychologist," she said curtly. "I really don't like to have meetings like this before I meet with a child. I find meeting the child with a preconceived notion is counterproductive."

"I'm sorry. I just thought it was something you should know. I guess I overstepped, I apologize. I'll stay out of things from here on in."

"Thank you," Beth said standing, "I have children to see. It was nice to meet you Principal Curtis," she turned for the door.

"It was nice to meet you as well," Tim Curtis said and smirked to himself as the door closed behind Beth Ellis.

---------------

"Hello," Fletcher said into his cell after he'd emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

"Hola Fletcher," the voice on the other end of the phone said.

Fletcher's face broke into a broad grin. "Hola Theresa, ¿como es usted?"

"I am fine little one, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, Spencer called you didn't he?"

"He is concerned about you. He told me what happened to your teacher. Are you okay, really?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the boy said brightly.

"Fletcher," Theresa's voice was stern and definitely unconvinced.

"Okay, okay, I had a nightmare last night but I'm alright so don't get all worried."

"What was it about?" she asked. Fletcher remained silent for a few moments making sure Jamal was still in the bathroom and eventually filled her in on his dream. "Oh Fletcher," she gasped, "did you tell Spencer?"

"No, I can't. He told me yesterday that he has enough on his mind with the case. He doesn't need my nightmares. I don't want him to regret taking me. He's all I've got Theresa."

Fletcher could hear Theresa's sharp intake of breath through the phone. "Little one, do not ever think like that. Spencer would never regret taking you. He loves you. You also know you have me and everybody on the team. Do you need me to come? The ambassadors are away right now so I could come if you want me to."

"No Theresa, I'll be okay. I feel better after talking to you."

"You are sure?" Theresa asked.

"Yes, I'm okay, really."

"Alright, call me if you need anything. I will call you tomorrow, okay? I love you."

"Okay Theresa, thanks. I love you too."

"Nada my sweet boy, good bye for now."

"Bye Theresa."

Theresa Montoya ended the call and then hit speed dial.

------------------

"Garcia," Hotch said into the speaker phone. "We're wondering if the unsub might be a teacher. Could you check and see if there's some kind of nomination list on the year the victims won. Perhaps their beating this man out for this award brought back memories of abuse as a child."

"I'll see what I can dig up sir. When I know, you'll know. I also checked into reports of inappropriate behavior going back twenty years."

"Did you find out anything mama?"

"Only that there are a lot of creeps out there. There were some molestation charges, most involving inappropriate conduct with female students. Some were proved to be unfounded, you know the teacher fails a girl and she cries rape."

"We're pretty sure we're dealing with a male Garcia," Emily reminded the tech.

"Yeah, I know, okay we've got two. James Deacon was indicted for sexual molestation of a minor in 1992. He was forty-two at the time. His victim was Cory Weyburn who was ten at the time which makes him twenty-seven now. After news of the indictment was announced other boys came forward. Deacon is still a guest of Maryland State Penitentiary. Cory Weyburn now lives in Philadelphia."

"Avery Flint," she continued, "was also brought up on charges eight years ago of molesting a male student, one Peter Grant, aged eleven. There wasn't enough evidence to convict him. He did lose his job as a teacher, the creep, and left the state. He's now a car salesman in Arizona. Peter Grant's now nineteen and a student at Georgetown."

"Neither of them is close enough to watch these men like the unsub must have done," Rossi reasoned.

"That's all for now boys and girls," Garcia out.

"Of course, not all incidences of child molestation are reported," JJ offered just as Reid's cell rang.

"Reid," he said into the instrument.

"Spencer, it is Theresa, we have to talk."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------

"A nightmare," Reid said into the phone after Theresa had told him the reason for her call. Reid had stepped out of the conference room and was now in a corner of the bullpen. "Did he say what it was about?"

"Ches," Theresa relayed what Fletcher had told her about his dream. "Spencer, I am so sad. Poor Fletcher, he has had too much violent death around him for an eight year old."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Reid was confused. "I thought he trusted me."

"He does Spencer but he is afraid that he will be too much trouble for you. He told me you said to him that you had enough on your mind with the case. He is afraid you will regret taking him. I told him that would never happen, that you love him but I do not know if I convinced him."

"Thanks for calling me Theresa. I'll talk to him," Reid assured her.

"If you need anything I am here. I offered to come up but he said no," Theresa stated. "Take care Spencer."

"I will, thanks again, bye." Reid ended the call, put the cell back in his pocket and returned to the conference room where the team was tossing out ideas. "Hotch, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Hotch followed Reid into the bullpen. "What is it Reid?"

"I know this isn't the best time but I need a few hours personal time." He went on to explain Theresa's call. "She's right, at eight Fletcher's had to deal with Muriel Dressler killing prostitutes and abducting him, David Rafferty being shot in an elevator and Theresa being blamed for it and now one of his teachers is murdered at his school. No matter how smart he is, he's still only an eight year old child. How can we expect him to handle so much violence and not be adversely affected?"

As Reid drove the SUV through the Baltimore streets towards Weinthorpe Academy his thoughts revolved around his own childhood and his attempts to be the perfect child, as if not rocking the boat would have somehow made his life with his mother easier. Now he was seeing the same thing in Fletcher. He hadn't tried and succeeded in getting Fletcher away from his neglectful parents only to have him feel the way he himself had felt as a child. That was the very thing he had been trying to avoid. He wanted Fletcher to feel secure in his love for him. With his job that wasn't always easy so if he had to take a little personal time now and then to make sure that that happened so be it. He'd earned it after all.

The halls were quiet as he entered the dorm building at Weinthorpe Academy, too quiet. Young children populated this floor of the dormitory. There should be noise, Reid thought, music or the television set. He walked towards the lounge. He saw a few students spread throughout the room, mostly boys, reading or playing either chess or go. He supposed they didn't feel they should be laughing or enjoying music or the other pleasures of life when their teacher had just died. He knew that Doug Hay wouldn't want this. Reid pulled his cell from the pocket of his grey cords which he'd coordinated today with a cranberry shirt, a grey sweater vest topped with a black jacket. His tie featured slanted stripes in grey, black and a cranberry that matched his shirt. He hit speed dial.

"Hi Spencer," the small voice came through his phone.

"Hi bud, I'm in the lobby. How about you meet me out here?"

"Are you doing more investigation on the case?"

"No, I came to see you."

Fletcher's voice deflated, "Theresa called you didn't she? I knew I shouldn't have told her."

"Yes, you should have told her but, more importantly, you should have told me."

"But Spencer you said…" the boy began to argue.

"I know what I said. Look, I don't want to have this discussion on the phone. Come to the lobby please."

"Okay, I'll be right there." Fletcher closed his cell phone. "Spencer's in the lobby," he told Jamal as he headed for the door.

He didn't sound too happy about it, Jamal thought, what was that about?

Reid paced the lobby as he waited for Fletcher. How could he have said what he did? He, of all people, knew what it was like to feel unwanted as a child. How could he have said something so insensitive to make Fletcher feel unwanted? He'd thought Fletcher felt confident enough in their relationship that his off hand comment wouldn't affect him too much. Well he was certainly wrong about that wasn't he? The door to the dormitory opened and the little blond head appeared. Fletcher wore a robin's egg blue polo shirt with navy blue cords for which Reid was thankful. He'd persuaded the boy to leave most of his sweater vests at home when he'd come to Weinthorpe.

"Hi Spencer," the youngster looked at the floor.

"Hi Fletcher, let's go to the lounge," Reid led the boy into the lounge where they found two wing back chairs upholstered in the familiar wine colored leather of the school in a secluded corner by the window.

"Okay, tell me about the nightmare," Reid said gently and sternly.

Fletcher relayed the nightmare as he remembered it. "When I woke up I was soaking wet. I almost thought I had been out in the rain; it seemed so real but then I realized it wasn't. I got up and changed my pajamas and went back to bed. I kept telling myself it was just a dream and eventually I fell asleep."

Reid didn't interrupt Fletcher as he told his story but only nodded his head encouragingly. How many times had he changed soaked pajamas in the night or left his room to sleep on the couch because his bed linens were soaked with sweat.

"Anyway, I'm okay now," Fletcher asserted bravely.

"Are you…really?"

Fletcher only nodded.

"Have you spoken to the counselor yet?" Reid asked.

"No," Fletcher replied, "I don't see her until after lunch, 1:30."

"I thought we agreed that you would tell me about the nightmares," Reid stated, looking at the boy sternly.

"I didn't want to bother you. You said you had enough on your mind with…"

"I know, and I shouldn't have said that. I was thinking I couldn't take time away from the case because you and Jamal were running around playing mini FBI agents." He put up his hand when Fletcher was about to speak. "But I want to be there for you when something like this happens. I know with my work I won't always be able to but I want to try even if I'm just a voice on the phone, you'll know it's a voice that understands. Most of all I want you to know and be secure in the fact that I'm in this for the long haul. Just because you have a nightmare or do something to make me angry doesn't mean I'm going to ship you back to your parents." He gave Fletcher a little smirk. "I'm new at this so I'll probably make mistakes and that's okay. I made a mistake in letting you think I was too busy for you and you made a mistake in not telling me about the nightmare. So, we're even." Fletcher smirked at this disclosure.

Reid cleared his throat, not sure how his next words would be received. "I think you should tell your counselor about your nightmare."

"No Spencer, I told you, okay. I'm fine. Don't make me tell her."

"Who's her?" Reid asked.

Fletcher pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket with the name Dr. Beth Ellis and the time of the appointment printed on it and handed it to Spencer.

"Why don't you want to tell her?" Reid wanted to know.

"I don't want her to think I'm like a weakling or a baby."

Reid's mouth opened in awe, "Is that what you think of me because, believe me, I still have nightmares? Do you think I'm weak?"

"No, no Spencer, I think you're the best guy in the world and I love you more than anybody. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I've had psych evaluations and I've had sessions with therapists that work for the bureau. They don't look on nightmares as a sign of weakness. Though, I have to admit, I thought that too in my early days at the bureau. I didn't want any of them to know I was having nightmares. It was Morgan that picked up on it. He told me everybody has them. Now, there's nobody cooler than Morgan and if he admits to having nightmares then it can't be that bad can it?"

"I'm really okay," the boy looked Spencer in the eye. His words sounded convincing.

Reid glanced at his watch. "You're going to have to go for lunch soon," he said as he stood and the pair left the lounge getting looks now and then from students who occupied the room. "I'll call you later and find out how it went with Dr. Ellis."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," Fletcher inserted his key card in the dormitory door and waved good bye to Reid before the door closed behind him.

Beth Ellis opened the door to the office she'd been assigned to let out the last student before lunch and found a man sitting in the hallway outside the door. "Dr. Ellis," he pushed back the brown hair that had fallen in his face. "I wonder if I might have a word with you."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------------

Beth Ellis looked up curiously at the man, who seemed to tower over her mere five foot frame. "In regards to what Mr. …?"

"Reid, Spencer Reid, Dr. Spencer Reid; I wanted to talk to you about a student you'll be seeing this afternoon, Fletcher Bancroft." Reid said as he regarded the diminutive, plump woman before him. Her short dark hair, styled in a neat wedge cut, framed a friendly face. She was clad in a pair of navy blue gabardine slacks topped with the palest pink ribbed tank. He glimpsed through the open doorway that her matching suit jacket hung over the back of her chair.

"What is it with you people and this boy? Why do you all seem to think he's severely troubled?"

"No; I don't think Fletcher's severely troubled." Reid paused for a moment. "What do you mean by all?"

"I had a message when I arrived this morning," Beth Ellis explained, "that the principal wanted to see me. It was to discuss this same boy. I'll tell you what I told him. I don't like to have meetings with others before I meet the child."

Reid was surprised and pleased with the doctor's position. He respected the fact that she did not want her judgment affected before she had a chance to see the child in question. "W…what was the principal's concern regarding Fletcher?" Reid asked.

"He thought the child's curiosity over his teacher's death was unhealthy," the doctor sighed audibly. "Now, I can understand if you teachers have concerns and I would be more than happy to discuss how to handle them but I'd like to meet with the child first to find out if these concerns are even founded."

"I'm not one of Fletcher's teachers," Reid clarified. "I'm his guardian and although I appreciate that you don't want others to cloud your perception of Fletcher, I think there are some things you need to know that might shed light on some of Fletcher's behavior. They're things I think he might not willingly share with you even though I've encouraged him to do so. We can speak after you meet Fletcher if you prefer. Perhaps he'll surprise me and bring up all his issues. This is my card," Reid pulled one of his cards out of his wallet and handed it to the doctor. "I'd appreciate it if you'd call me after you've spoken to Fletcher."

Beth Ellis looked at the card. "FBI hmm, maybe that explains some of the curiosity." She closed the office door and started down the hallway, Reid walking beside her. "I'll call you after I meet with Fletcher, Dr. Reid." She put the card in her pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some lunch." She said as she turned left down the hallway toward the faculty lounge.

Tim Curtis sat at his desk crunching some numbers for next year's budget proposal. His suit jacket hung on a rack behind the door. The sleeves of his tan shirt were rolled up to the elbows. He had opened his windows and a cool fall breeze wafted through the room making the edges of the many papers on his desk flutter as the curtains waved ever so slightly. The breeze, it seemed, had also helped to cool the principal's coffee as evidenced by the grimace when he took a sip. His grimace became more pronounced when a sharp knock sounded on his door. "Come in," he said impatiently, his mind still on the numbers in front of him. He glanced up as the door opened to admit Dr. Reid who, Tim noted, did not look happy.

-------------------

"What exactly is it you want me to look for sir," Garcia asked from the computer screen in front of them. They could see her blond hair bound up into childlike pigtails and the brightness of the orange dress she wore belied the gruesome details she dealt with on a daily basis.

"Look into all three victims. If this is a teacher, he may have had some contact with them in the past," Hotch said.

"Go into employment records," Rossi added. "Maybe they all worked for the same school at one point."

"If this guy's only in his twenties," Garcia's fingers tapped on her keyboard, "it would have to be the most recent employment. A guy in his twenties wouldn't have had that many teaching jobs."

"That's true mama," Morgan agreed as he spun a pen between his hands, "but, don't get bogged down by age. It's the hardest thing to predict."

"I'm on it," with a click the tech disappeared from the screen.

"You guys would know more about this than I would," JJ pondered, "but do you think Reid's right about the alphabetical thing? I mean, should we be watching or warning Eugene Kennedy?"

"He's not often wrong," Emily said as the team all looked at the picture of Eugene Kennedy.

------------------

"Dr. Reid, what can I d…?" Tim Curtis began before being interrupted by an angry Reid.

"Why did you ask to see the counselor and tell her that you thought Fletcher's behavior might be unhealthy?"

"It's my job to watch out for the students and I thought Fletcher showed a little more than normal interest," Curtis stated.

"Really," Reid's eyes narrowed. "Whatever happened to the old boys will be boys thing and he's just mimicking the significant male in his life?" Reid countered hotly.

"Well, I just thought it seemed a little more than that," the principal repeated.

Reid's voice rose. "No matter what you think or what you think your job entails," he pointed his right index finger at Curtis, "your responsibility is to call me and let me deal with these things because **that**," he emphasized the last word pointing his finger at himself, "is my responsibility. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Curtis said coldly as Reid turned and stormed out of the office.

-----------------

Reid entered the conference room just as the team was getting the results of Garcia's search. "Okay, I did employment searches like you asked. There's one teacher who's been involved with two of the victims. Tim Curtis, the principal at Weinthorpe worked with Keith Fenmore a few years ago before he moved to the job he holds now but he never worked with Jeff Blaylock."

"He never mentioned that to us," Hotch and Reid said almost as one.

"That could just be coincidence," Prentiss argued. "I mean people do move around. We were all in other positions in the FBI before we landed up here."

"Except for pretty boy," Morgan teased, tossing a paper clip at Reid who batted it out of the way like an annoying fly.

"Anything else Garcia?" Hotch asked, ignoring the antics of the two younger men.

"Well, I had kind of a hunch. I know the unsub sometimes likes to watch the affect of his handiwork. I didn't see anybody in the onlookers at the crime scenes but I thought of something else."

"Are you getting to the point anytime soon Garcia?" Rossi asked.

---------------------

Fletcher walked down the hallway to the rooms assigned to the counselors. Four chairs sat outside the rooms although only one was occupied. "Hi Macy," Fletcher said to the seven year old girl who sat in the first seat. Fletcher took the fourth seat leaving the two between them unoccupied.

"Hi Fletcher," Macy was a little shorter than Fletcher and had a head of thick red hair that went half way down her back. She had bangs that ended at her eyebrows. Her hair was held off her face by a blue headband. She had big blue eyes that matched the royal blue sweatshirt with a white unicorn on the front that she wore with blue jeans.

They sat for a few moments in silence when Macy said, "You've seen a murderer before, right?"

Fletcher nodded, "Yeah, back in San Francisco."

"What happened?" the tiny voice asked.

Fletcher told her about being a witness and being abducted by Muriel Dressler, getting free and eventually getting rescued. After he'd finished, Macy's hands began to shake nervously.

"Macy, what's wrong?" Fletcher asked.

"The murderer," Macy said barely above a whisper, "I think he's watching me!"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------

"Why would he be watching you Macy? Did you see something?" Fletcher's voice betrayed his excitement at the prospect.

"No, no I didn't see anything!" the little girl exclaimed.

"Then why do you think he's watching you?" Fletcher asked.

"I don't know," she replied with a slight whimper. "It's just a feeling I get. You know how you get that feeling; you know when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?"

"Yeah, maybe it's just, you know, with the thunderstorm and Mr. Hay getting killed, it's kind of like one of those scary movies."

"I don't like scary movies," Macy said.

"It's only been two days. Maybe you just have to give it some time. Maybe once we start classes again it'll get better."

The girl swallowed a lump in her throat, "Yeah, maybe," she agreed quietly as one of the doors opened and a middle aged woman stepped out and called her name. Macy got down off the chair, "See you Fletcher," she said as she slowly made her way to the door.

------------------

"I thought of the funerals," Garcia said, "and wondered if the unsub would go to the funerals to watch the grief he'd caused. So," she pushed her chair back from the computer and turned towards the fax machine, grabbing some papers lying near it, "I called the two families and got them to fax me a list of everyone who attended their relative's funeral." She held up the pages for them to see.

"And, did you find anything Garcia?" Prentiss asked.

"Yes, one person attended both funerals and is certainly likely to attend Doug Hay's."

"Who mama," Morgan sat forward in his chair.

"Tim Curtis," Garcia replied.

"Tim Curtis," the group said as one.

"But I thought you said he didn't work with Blaylock," Hotch responded.

"He didn't. I even went back to see if they'd attended the same university and might know each other from there but no go. So if he didn't know Blaylock, why attend his funeral?"

"Perhaps we should pay Tim Curtis a visit," Rossi suggested.

"Something else guys," Reid interjected, "Tim Curtis spoke to the counselor who's going to be interviewing Fletcher. He told her he felt that Fletcher's curiosity about the case is unhealthy but what if it wasn't that? What if he's afraid the boys would find something?"

"He's inserting himself into the investigation," Morgan said.

"We definitely need to talk to Curtis," Prentiss agreed.

------------------

"Spencer, he's my guardian," Fletcher was telling Beth Ellis. "He's the greatest guy in the whole world."

"Do you miss your parents?" Beth asked.

Fletcher looked at the woman, down at the floor and up again. "Is it really bad if I say no?"

"No, it's not bad. I'm just trying to gauge how you feel about things." They'd been talking small talk for about five minutes, about school and Fletcher's life in general. She was pleased that the boy had been forthcoming about his parents and how he'd come to be with Spencer Reid. "How did you feel about Mr. Hay?" she asked suddenly.

"I liked him. He was a good teacher, easy to talk to," Fletcher replied. "I'll miss him."

"Have you ever known anyone before who died?" she asked.

"Define known," Fletcher responded.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Beth was momentarily taken aback. "Has anyone you've known ever died?"

"Technically, only Mr. Hay," the boy responded.

"What do you mean by technically?" Beth asked. This was certainly one of her more interesting interviews.

"Okay, this isn't the first time I've been around a murder, it's the third."

"The third," Beth replied.

"Yeah, but the people who died weren't people I knew, well except for Mr. Hay, that's why I said, define known."

"How did you get involved with two other murders?" Beth inquired of this angelic looking boy.

Fletcher went on to explain about seeing Muriel Dressler through his telescope and the events stemming from that. "That's how I met Spencer," the boy added. He then told her about the murder of David Rafferty. "I guess I shouldn't have said I'd been around them. I never actually saw any bodies or anything."

"How do you feel about all this violence?" The psychologist asked, intrigued by this young boy's stories.

"I was sorry for the ladies in San Francisco and for Mr. Hay. I wasn't sorry for Mr. Rafferty. I didn't like him." He paused for a moment. "That didn't come out right. Just because I don't like someone, doesn't mean they should die. I just wasn't sad about him. Is that bad of me?"

"No, it's not. We don't always feel sadness when someone dies and that's okay. So," she said after a few moments, "have there been any after effects from any of these situations."

"After effects," Fletcher echoed, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, things like increased anxiety, trouble sleeping, nightmares?"

---------------

"There are some FBI agents here to see you," Mrs. Halliday announced after her knock had been answered from within. She held the door open for Rossi and Prentiss as she wondered why they hadn't sent Dr. Reid. She'd seen him here earlier.

Rossi and Prentiss entered the room and flashed their ID. "We have some more questions for you Mr. Curtis," Rossi began.

"Please sit down. I've pretty much told Agents Hotchner and Reid everything I know," Curtis said, indicating the chairs in front of his desk.

"You didn't tell them that you knew the other two victims. At least since you attended their funerals, I assume you knew them," Prentiss stated. "Although we couldn't find a record of you knowing Jeff Blaylock, so why would you attend his funeral?"

"I…I knew Jeff. We worked together a few years back on a committee for the Maryland Teachers' Society, set up to improve curriculums as our students were scoring more poorly than most other states in reading and mathematics."

"Why would you keep that a secret from the other agents?" Rossi asked.

"I didn't think it was important. I didn't think it would help find who killed Doug."

"Where were you on the nights of the other murders?' Prentiss asked.

"W…where was I?" He looked back and forth between the agents, his voice panicky. "Y…you can't be serious. How can I remember where I was on a certain night months ago?"

"Try," Rossi persisted.

"If it was a school night, I was probably home. I usually only go out on weekends."

"Can anyone confirm that?" Rossi asked.

"No, I live alone." Curtis fidgeted in his seat.

"What kind of vehicle do you drive?" Prentiss asked.

"A Ford Raptor, why?"

"We'd like to see it." The agents stood and went to the door. "Coming," Rossi added.

Tim stood and led them through the hallways and out to the faculty parking lot. They looked at the front of his truck. There were scratches and dings on many places all over the vehicle. "You have a lot of marks on it," Prentiss remarked.

"I drive it a lot in the country, gravel roads; it gets dinged." He paused for a moment. "Look, this isn't because I pissed Agent Reid off this morning, is it?"

Rossi stood from squatting down in front of the truck. "Did you do that? He never mentioned it. Not a good idea though," he said as he walked by the astonished teacher. "Thank you Mr. Curtis, we'll be in touch," he added as he put his sunglasses on and the pair headed for their SUV.

"That truck is high enough off the ground to hit somebody on a bicycle and not leave a scratch," Prentiss noted as she buckled her seatbelt.

"And," Rossi countered, "did you notice the copy of the newsletter from the Maryland Teachers' Society on his desk?"


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

----------------------

The boy was quiet for a long time, looking at the floor. Beth Ellis waited patiently. She had learned that children usually gave up what was on their minds if you gave them time. Prodding only succeeded in getting the answer they thought she wanted to hear. "Spencer wanted me to tell you," Fletcher finally said. "It's really no big deal but sometimes I have nightmares." He looked at the floor again. "Spencer says it's okay, that he sometimes has them too. He says even Morgan has them. Morgan," Fletcher explained excitedly, "is this really macho guy on Spencer's team. They're all actually more like family." He went on to give details about each member of the team and Theresa.

"So you mentioned you had nightmares," Beth returned to the aspect of the discussion she was most interested in.

"Um hmm," the boy said quietly. "It is okay isn't it? Spencer said it was. He's always honest with me. There's nothing wrong with me is there?"

"What are your nightmares about?" the psychologist probed.

"Usually they're about Muriel Dressler. I had one last night. That's why Spencer came all the way from the precinct even though he's in the middle of a case. In the dream I was looking out the window and I saw Mr. Hay get murdered but then it changed and it was me lying on the ground and Muriel Dressler was holding the knife and laughing."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Scared! When I woke up it seemed so real. I was soaked with sweat so I felt like I had actually been out in the rain. When I saw Jamal in the next bed I realized it was just a dream. I was kind of," he paused, searching for the right word, "I don't know, uneasy I guess you'd say, for a little while but I'm better now. Talking to Spencer always helps. He understands."

He waited, looking carefully at Beth Ellis, "I'm not crazy am I?" he asked.

Beth smiled kindly. "No Fletcher, you're not crazy at all. You went through something very traumatic. It's not always easy for our minds to deal with things like that. Our conscious mind tends to want to just push the event away and forget about it but our subconscious mind, that is most prevalent during sleep, often resurrects these things we're trying to suppress."

"I usually don't go into this sort of detail with children but you're a very smart boy so I will. You've probably researched it yourself. About 50% of children have nightmares. They're usually brought on by a number of factors, the basic stresses of growing, a traumatic event, fever and an active imagination. I don't think you had a fever but the other three certainly apply, especially since genii are known to have extremely active imaginations. You've had a lot of trauma in your young life, the murders, your parents, your move here and your new life with Spencer." Fletcher opened his mouth to speak but Beth put up her hand. "Even though that seems to be a positive thing for you, it was still an upheaval. I would have been very surprised if you hadn't had nightmares."

-------------------

"Find out anything?" Morgan asked as Rossi and Prentiss walked into the conference room.

"We found out that he did know Jeff Blaylock. They'd worked on some kind of committee together for the Maryland Teachers' Society," Prentiss told them.

"So that's a bust then," JJ interjected.

"I'm not so sure," Rossi added. "He seemed really uptight and fidgety about our questions, not like an innocent man. He couldn't give an alibi for any of the murders and he drives a truck that's so dinged up he could have hit someone on a bike and it wouldn't be noticeable."

"He also had a copy of the newsletter from the Maryland Teachers' Society on his desk," Prentiss threw in. "He made me very uneasy."

"So how do we prove it? We don't have enough to bring him in," Hotch said.

"We have to do something," JJ said. "He's working with children. If he's unstable and thinks we're closing in on him who's to say what he might do?"

"He thought this all might have stemmed from the fact that he pissed you off this morning," Rossi looked at Reid.

"JJ's right, we have to do something," Reid said. "If he's unstable and thinking I'm the cause of this, he might take it out on Fletcher."

"Hotch," Morgan asked, "do you think there's any way we could get a warrant? We could search his place for the knife."

"What we've got is so thin Morgan. It's nothing more than a hunch. He had a reason to be at the funerals. There's no damage to his vehicle to prove he hit a bike. Every teacher has that newsletter. I just don't know."

"Hotch, couldn't you impress on the judge that he works with kids," Reid suggested, "and for their protection, we have to be sure. I mean, if we don't find anything, no harm no foul."

"Except to a possibly innocent man's reputation." Hotch seemed to ponder this for a moment. "Okay, I'll get on it. Let's hope we can get a sympathetic judge." He headed for the door. "Have Garcia get us everything she can on him."

--------------------

Reid pulled his cell out of his pocket, "Reid."

"_Dr. Reid, this is Dr. Ellis. I've finished my interview with Fletcher."_

"And, what do you think? Do you think his interest in the murder is unhealthy?"

"_He has had a lot of violence in his life. He told me about the other murders and," _she stressed,_ "the nightmares." _She could hear Reid heave a sigh of relief_. "He tells me he wants to be an FBI agent, just like you when he grows up. That's not unusual. I think his little investigation stems from that, from a desire to have something in common with you, something you two can share."_

"Do you think he needs any further therapy?" Reid asked. "He's had a lot of trauma and the nightmares. I suffer from PTSD myself due to a work related trauma so I know something of what he's feeling but I'm not a professional. His parents always stressed that he not be a whiny baby so he's held a lot of his feelings inside. I've told him not to feel that way with me, that he can tell me anything but I want to do what's best for him and I'm not always sure if what I'm doing is enough. As you've probably guessed, I'm pretty new at this."

"_Considering all that's happened to him, he's fairly well adjusted. If you want me to see him to try to help him deal with the nightmares I'd be happy to. It might not be my place but I'd like to say that I feel what you've done for him has had a very positive effect on his life."_

"Thank you Dr. Ellis. I'll talk to Fletcher and if he's willing I'll make some arrangements for you to see him. Thanks again for calling me.

"_No problem Dr. Reid, good day."_

Reid ended the call and put his cell in his pocket just as Morgan was ending a call of his own. "Good news," he said. "Detective Judd knew a pretty sympathetic judge and we've got a warrant."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------

Theresa looked at the address on the piece of paper and the storefront property with a sign that read 'Samaritan House.' She guessed this was the right place. It hadn't taken her as long as she thought to find it so she hoped she wasn't overly early. She looked in the window and could not see anyone inside. She wondered if she should even go in. Maybe she should just rely on the team and Fletcher to help her like they had been. What did she know about the man who had invited her? Perhaps she should have asked one of the girls' advice before she came. People were passing by her on the street as she stood there. She couldn't just stand here forever she decided. It was either go in or go home. She took a deep breath and pushed the glass door open. A bell tinkled to announce her arrival. "Be right with you," a female voice yelled from the back.

Theresa surveyed the room. It was a far cry from the grandeur of the mansion she had just left. A large round folding table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by metal framed chairs with worn wooden seats and backs. Along the yellow walls of the large room were cots that had been folded to make room for the table. The floor was a dull grey tile that was clean but not shiny like the gleaming tiles in the Prentiss home.

A stout grey haired woman appeared from the back, wiping her hands on the apron she wore over a purple flowered housedress. "How may I help you?" She smiled as she took in the young woman before her. The Hispanic beauty appeared to be in her early twenties with dark eyes and thick lustrous black hair that ended around her chin. She wore blue jeans that were covered to her knees by black boots with a grey tweed jacket over a pale blue blouse.

"My name is Theresa Montoya. Justin Wade invited me to join the group studying for the GED. I know it does not start until seven and I am early. I did not know how hard it would be to find the address so I left early."

"Welcome my dear, I'm Lois Kendall. My husband and I run the shelter. I was just in the back preparing dinner. They should start arriving soon. You're welcome to sit and wait. There are some magazines over there that have been donated if you want something to read. I really have to get back to the cooking."

"Can I help?" Theresa asked. "I love to cook. It is what I do. I would be happy to help you."

Lois raised her eyes heavenward. "I always tell my husband, the Lord provides. We had a rather tough day today and I knew I was never going to be able to get the meal out on time and you walk in the door and offer to help. Come with me," she said as she pulled Theresa toward the kitchen.

---------------------

"Macy Hume told me that she feels like the murderer is watching her," Fletcher told Jamal as the pair sat on their beds in their dorm room.

"Why would he be watching her and how does she know?" his roommate asked.

"I don't know. All she said is she had that feeling that you get."

"So if that's true," Jamal reasoned, "that would mean the murderer's still around here. There hasn't been anyone strange around here except for the counselors and they just arrived today and the FBI agents and none of them is the murderer. Do you think it's one of the teachers?"

"That's all I can think of," Fletcher replied.

"Did she say she saw something the night of the murder?"

"No, she said she didn't see anything."

"So why would the murderer be watching her?"

"That's the question," Fletcher remarked. "Maybe we should keep an eye on Macy and see if anyone's watching her."

"What if she's just imagining it Fletcher?"

"She could be but Macy's a smart girl or she wouldn't be here. I'm trusting that she's not imagining it."

"Do you think we should tell Spencer?"

"Let's wait and see what we find out," Fletcher suggested. He didn't want to bother Spencer again. "We'll watch Macy at dinner and decide after that."

----------------------

Theresa pulled a spoon out of the pot of vegetable soup, blew on it and brought the steaming liquid to her lips and tasted it. "How is it?" Lois asked. "Does it need anything?"

"Maravilloso," Theresa said, giving Lois two thumbs up.

Theresa opened the oven to check on the large roast beef that was cooking there, surrounded by roast potatoes and carrots. "We don't usually have such a good meal," Lois told her, "but Mr. Springer down at the market just got back from Vegas and won a lot of money so he was feeling generous. He can write it off anyway." She waved a hand idly in front of her face. The bell tinkled again. "They're starting to arrive now," she told Theresa.

Footsteps could be heard coming toward the kitchen and then a voice called out, "Lois, have you divorced that old man yet so you can ma…Oh…hello again," Justin Wade stopped short when he saw Theresa. The tweed jacket that the ambassador had given to her with some other clothes that she would have sent to goodwill had been discarded and the sleeves of her blue blouse were rolled up to her elbows. She wore an apron Lois had provided her with. "I see you decided to join us." Justin nodded, "Good."

"Hello Justin, it is nice to see you again." Theresa smiled at the young man who was today again in blue jeans but wore a plaid flannel shirt over a white tee shirt.

Lois looked back and forth between the two of them, raising her eyes to the ceiling. She raised her hand in front of Justin's face and snapped her fingers. "What," he said.

"Would you like to set up the long table so we can bring the food and dishes out?" Lois asked."

"Oh sure, old Howie's usually got that done by now," he replied.

"Yeah, well do you see old Howie?" she shouted at him.

"As a matter of fact, I don't. Where is he?" Justin asked, looking around.

"He fell this morning and broke his hip. He's in the hospital," she said as she lifted the hem of her apron to wipe a tear from her eye.

"Lois," Justin turned to her with his mouth open wide, grasping her shoulders gently, "why didn't you say something? How is he?"

"He has to have surgery in the morning. He was in quite a bit of pain when I left."

"What are you doing here? You should be with him. Why didn't you call me?"

"Oh Justin, you're busy with your work honey and someone had to be here to make dinner for everyone."

"Well, I'm here now; you get out of here and give that old geezer a hug for me."

"But what about…" Lois began only to be cut off by Justin.

"Theresa and I are here," he said as he undid her apron and pushed her toward the back door, handing Lois her coat and purse as she went. "Good night, Lois." He closed the door behind her and looked at Theresa and the meal. "I guess it's just you and me."

--------------------

Two SUVs stopped in front of 1417 Camden Lane, a small bi-level on a quiet residential street. The house had tan siding and featured a white bay window, white trim and a white front door. The team walked up the sidewalk in the early evening twilight of fall. Some bushes grew under the bay window. The house and the lawn both looked well cared for. Hotch stepped on the cement slab step and rang the doorbell. The door was opened some minutes later by Tim Curtis who looked stunned to see the entire team on his doorstep.

"What the…" Curtis began only to be interrupted by Hotch.

"Tim Curtis, we have a warrant to search this residence." Hotch handed Curtis the warrant.

"Search, what for?"

"The knife used to kill Jeff Blaylock, Keith Fenmore and Doug Hay," Morgan replied.

"You can't possibly think that I…" Curtis said as the team walked past him and up to the main level.

Reid took the kitchen and headed straight for a wooden block of knives on the counter, looking for one with the same size and shape as the one the medical examiner had described. Rossi took the dining room with a china cabinet. Morgan took the living room. Cushions from the couch and the chair flew through the air before he attacked the entertainment center. Prentiss began searching the linen, broom and hall closets that lined the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Hotch and JJ carried on to where two rooms broke off. One room was a bedroom, the other an office. Hotch took the bedroom, JJ the office. No one spoke and all that could be heard was the opening and closing of drawers and doors until they heard JJ say, "Guys, you gotta see this!"


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

---------------------

"What is it JJ?" Hotch asked as he and the others ran toward the office. He noted the stunned expression in JJ's eyes as she merely pointed at the computer screen.

The team surveyed the image on the screen showing two beds, each with a nightstand, two desks, one chest of drawers was visible, the other obscured by the position of the camera which appeared from the angle to be in the corner ceiling near the door. On one of the beds sat a blond haired girl in pajamas. She was talking to someone in the bathroom but there was no sound. Soon another little girl appeared on the screen; her long red hair was damp and beginning to spring into loose curls. She was wrapped in a bath towel. They both appeared to be about seven years old. The red haired girl approached the chest of drawers that was unseen by the camera, opened a drawer and removed a pink and white strawberry shortcake nightgown. She released the towel, her nakedness now visible on the screen, and put on the nightgown which fell to just below her hips. She discarded the towel in her hamper and jumped on her bed.

"That's one of the dorms at Weinthorpe," Reid exclaimed in awe as he looked at the image on the screen.

"They obviously don't know they're on camera," Emily said as the team turned toward Tim Curtis.

"I…I can explain," the man said.

"I'd be very interested to hear your explanation for this," Hotch said as he pointed at the screen, barely able to keep his steely will under control.

"This is how you get your jollies isn't it Curtis?" Morgan said as he pulled the man's hands to his back and secured them with his cuffs.

"I never ever touched them, I…"

"You just watched them. You just like to watch little girls getting dressed and undressed," Rossi finished for him.

"That's what took you so long to come to the door, isn't it?" Emily said, the realization finally hitting her. "You were watching these little girls and pleasuring yourself."

"Caught you with your pants down, didn't we Curtis?" Morgan uttered with disgust as he pushed the man from the room and toward the stairs.

Hotch pulled out his cell and turned to the others. "Let's keep looking for that knife."

-----------------

"Thank you," Justin said as the group started to disperse after the study session. He was folding up the table to make room for the cots for those who would spend the chilly night in the shelter. "I hope you didn't mind me sending Lois away and relying on you to help out in the lurch."

"No, do not think of it," Theresa replied. "That poor woman, cooking here for others and worrying about her husband. Thank you for inviting me. I found that it helped a lot."

"I'm glad. Wait until those that are leaving go and I'll drive you home."

"There is no need, I can catch the bus."

"You are not catching the bus," Justin was adamant. "If one of my sisters was here and some guy made her catch the bus at night I'd kick his ass."

"Thank you very much," Theresa realized she would not win this argument. "What about all the dishes?" she asked.

"Oh, don't worry about them. I'll drop you off and come back and do them. I do dishes around here all the time."

"Nonsense, I will begin them while you get things in order here." Theresa turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

Justin let out a little giggle and saluted, "Yes ma'am."

-------------------

The team sat in the conference room, unsuccessful at finding the murder weapon in Curtis' home. "So you think with what we found in the house that we can get a warrant for his truck and office?" Prentiss asked Hotch.

"We'd probably have to prove that the video on the computer was related to the murders and so far we don't have that." Hotch told them. "We only got to use the video of the girls and search for the DVDs he'd made of them and hidden because what was on the computer was in plain sight. Has Garcia found anything?"

JJ pushed some buttons and Garcia appeared on the computer screen. "Timothy James Curtis," she began, "was born March 6, 1974 in Richmond, Virginia. He was the youngest of seven children, having six older sisters. Four of the sisters and Timmy himself had different fathers so I guess you could say mom "got around," if you know what I mean. Timmy's mother had three kids before she was eighteen. There was only a year or two between each child and one set of twins. Mom died in a car crash when little Timmy was four, no father for any of the kids in the picture so, like little red riding hood, the seven kids went to grandma's house. She, however, was a regular at the nearest watering hole so Timmy was basically raised by his older sisters."

"That's where he got his penchant for little girls. Little girls had power over him and he probably saw his sisters naked. He looked but he knew he couldn't touch and that eventually got wired into his sexuality," Rossi interjected.

"He was fairly bright in school," Garcia continued, "and managed to get a full ride scholarship to Virginia Tech where he got a computer science degree. He moved to Baltimore and has worked for three schools, teaching computer science, the last of which is Weinthorpe Academy. He got his masters and PhD in IT online so he'd definitely have the skills to hook up that camera and stream it to his home computer. He's been the principal at Weinthorpe for a year and a half. There have never been any complaints leveled against him. Never married," Garcia finished.

"What would be his motive for the murders?" JJ asked.

"Maybe Doug Hay found out about his little peep show so he decided to get rid of him," Prentiss said. "The ME said he didn't have defensive wounds and was approached from the front so that would imply that he knew his killer. What if it was Tim Curtis? Doug Hay wouldn't have been afraid of him."

"Then why the other two?" Morgan inquired.

"John Mohammed wanted to kill his ex-wife but he knew he'd be the prime suspect. So he and Lee Boyd Malvo planned serial killings intending to have the ex-wife be one of the victims and he wouldn't be a suspect and he could get his children back but the plan changed and the Washington snipers just turned into spree killers," Reid rattled off before taking a breath.

"So you think maybe he killed the other two to hide the murder of Doug Hay?" Rossi asked.

"It's possible," Reid replied.

"Let's go see what he has to say," Hotch stood and left the room, the others following quickly behind.

------------------

"Wow, this is some place to live," Justin said in disbelief as he saw the mansion.

"Well, I only have a couple of small rooms although it is more than I've had in my life and the kitchen of course. I do not see much of the rest of the house." Justin pulled his car up to the back entrance. "Thank you for the ride."

Theresa reached to open her door but Justin jumped out of his seat. "Here, let me get that for you." He ran around and opened her door.

"Thank you," no one had ever rushed to open her door before. "And thank you for the study help."

"No problem, maybe you'll come again next week?" he looked hopeful.

"That depends on if the ambassador is back. This is not my usual night off but since the ambassador is not home I was free to go. Next week I may not be."

"Oh…okay then…uh…I…uh…maybe we could have coffee or something, if you want to that is." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "All my numbers are on there. If you want to come to study class again or have coffee you could call me."

Theresa reached into her book bag and took out a pen and a piece of paper. "This is my cell number. I do not take calls on the ambassador's phone."

Justin took the paper and smiled. "Maybe I'll see you again soon then. Good night Theresa."

"Good night Justin." Theresa opened the door and entered the mansion. When she'd closed the door she leaned against it, a dreamy expression in her eyes. "I certainly hope so."


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

--------------------------

The BAU team stood in the anteroom watching Tim Curtis. The principal of Weinthorpe Academy sat behind the wooden table facing the mirror. His hands were on the table, cuffed and visibly shaking. His head was down looking at them, he never raised it to look in the mirror in front of him as if he couldn't accept what he might see there. "Has he lawyered up?" Rossi asked Detective Judd.

"No, hasn't said a word," Judd replied.

"Well, I've got a few words," Reid, who had been quietly seething at the sight of Curtis, rushed forward from the back of the room before anyone on the team could stop him, pushing the door to the interrogation room open with such force it banged against the wall causing the glass in the door to vibrate to the point everyone thought it might shatter. Curtis looked up at the sound to see Reid charge toward him grabbing him out of his seat by the tee shirt he wore and shoving him against the wall. "You sick piece of crap," he yelled. "People left their children in your care. I left my…Fletcher in your care and all you tried to do was make his counselor think he was unbalanced." He punctuated each word with another shove into the wall. Reid laughed with contempt as he pushed away from Curtis. "We know who was really unbalanced, don't we?"

Morgan was on his way into the room when Rossi stopped him. "Leave them be. Curtis hasn't asked for a lawyer. This is apt to be a personal and highly charged exchange. He might let something slip we can use against him."

Morgan looked at Hotch who nodded, thinking of the day he and Reid had spent with Chester Hardwick. "He needs this release. Let's let him get it out. I don't think it can hurt our case and maybe it could help if Curtis reveals something. Reid's not likely to beat him senseless."

"Were there more?" Reid shouted. "Were you looking at other little girls too or are those two innocent little children the only ones you've violated?"

"No, they were the only ones. I…I swear."

"Don't try lying; we'll comb every dorm room for cameras."

"No," he repeated, "I swear."

"Is that why you killed Doug Hay? He found out about your voyeurism and threatened to turn you in to the authorities, is that it? You had to stop that didn't you?"

"No…no, I didn't kill Doug," Curtis begged to be believed.

"You expect me to believe that?" Reid paced the small room that seemed incapable of holding his burst of ferocious energy.

"It's true, I liked Doug. I'd never hurt him. I'd never hurt anybody. I…I never hurt those little girls, I only w…watched."

"Well, aren't you a prince. And how do you think those girls will feel when they find out you've been watching them for God knows how long like the creepy pedophile that you are."

"Maybe they don't ever have to know. I mean they don't know so if you just didn't tell them," Curtis pleaded.

"Not tell them, you know they're not stupid girls or they wouldn't be at Weinthorpe. You know they'll be curious about what happened to you. The whole school will be. I'm sure there's a well developed grapevine there, like there is in every institution. Do you think they won't find out? You can't be that naive? Would you rather they find out that way?"

Tears started to run down Curtis' face. "I didn't mean to hurt anybody. I only…"

"You deliberately tried to hurt Fletcher, didn't you? You tried to make his counselor think he was unstable when he's not. You don't call that trying to hurt him?"

"I didn't think I was really hurting him." Curtis attempted to defend himself. "I thought he might benefit from the counseling." He nodded his head, hoping to be believed. "I just wanted him to give up on his little investigation. You never know what he could have found out."

Reid opened his mouth in awe. "How magnanimous of you. You are a real piece of work Curtis, you know that. Innocent little girls hold sexual power over you and you're afraid of a couple of eight year old boys."

Tim Curtis turned steely eyes on Reid. "You and I both know they're not ordinary eight year old boys," he said.

---------------------

Garcia's fingers flew over her keyboard as she examined the pictures that Tim Curtis had streamed from the dorm room of Macy Hume and Ashleigh Kelleher to his home computer. "Oh these poor little princesses… you creep," she spat her condemnation for Weinthorpe's principal at the computer screen.

An image flicked past her quickly and she immediately drew it back. She stared at the picture for some time and then the time stamp leapt out at her. "Oh dear," she said, "I've gotta call Hotch."

------------------

Tim Curtis had fallen to his knees. He was crying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone." No matter how much Reid probed he wouldn't admit to the murder of Doug Hay.

Reid stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Is it because you think the sentence will be lengthier and harsher if you admit to the murder? Hmm, you could be right but from what I know, which most people seem to think is pretty vast, pedophiles do not fare well in prison. Apparently even drug dealers, rapists and murderers have lines they won't cross."

"I didn't kill him," Curtis yelled. "How many times do I have to say it, I didn't kill him."

Hotch's cell rang. He spoke briefly and turned to the group, "Garcia may have something for us."

Rossi knocked on the window of the interrogation room and Reid peeked his head out. "Conference room, Garcia's got something," he said before following the team out of the anteroom.

-------------------

The team gathered in the conference room around the computer screen, "What have you got for us Garcia," Hotch asked giving their technical analyst the floor.

"Okay, I've been going through the feed from the camera in those poor little girls' room to that creep's computer," she began. "He usually edits them down to DVD's, you know cuts out times when the room is empty and the girls are in classes, meals and stuff like that. He also takes out most of the night because the camera isn't night vision equipped so images can't be seen in the dark. Only with the murder I guess Curtis has been too busy because he hasn't had a chance to edit the last couple of days, or that may have been what he was doing when you guys arrived."

"We know what he was doing mama and it didn't have anything to do with editing," Morgan remarked.

"Eeew," Garcia shuddered, she didn't need that picture in her mind.

"Anyway I was going through the footage like you asked me to and I came to this…" A picture suddenly appeared on the screen. "Look at the time stamp. That's just around the time of the murder."

The team looked at the image on the screen. "Maybe it doesn't matter what Tim Curtis says," Prentiss stated. "We might have a witness."


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

------------------

The team stared at the picture on the computer screen. The room was in total darkness and normally nothing would be visible on the camera that Tim Curtis had hidden. However, this night was different. The camera did capture something. Macy Hume stood in front of the window in her room looking out at the stormy night. The team was able to see this because a bright flash of lightning had illuminated the room enough for the moment to be captured. Hotch looked at the time stamp. "It is around the time of the murder," he said. "JJ, get in touch with Macy Hume's parents. We need to talk to that little girl. You'll have to contact Ashleigh Kelleher's parents too and inform them of Curtis' actions."

"We can't bring the little girl in until we reach her parents," Prentiss asked. "What about the camera?"

"We won't do anything tonight," Hotch replied. "We'll send CSI techs in tomorrow when the kids are in classes. We'll dress them as repairmen so as not to alarm the children too much if possible. I hope it'll work but these are really smart kids."

"Tim Curtis," Rossi remarked, "he keeps denying the murder and I have to admit, he sounds convincing. Most of all, he doesn't fit the profile. Nothing about his life fits the profile. Could we have been that far off the mark?"

"Hopefully we'll know in the morning," Morgan said. "Macy Hume should be able to tell us if it's her principal or not. She'd recognize him."

"JJ has to get in touch with those parents before we do anything and it's already getting late. There's nothing we can really do tonight so let's call it a day and head back to the hotel," Hotch told them.

---------------------

Reid sat on his bed and hit speed dial. "Hello Spencer," said the voice that was becoming a little less accented in Spanish, Reid thought.

"Hi Theresa, I just called to let you know that I talked to Fletcher and he did bring his nightmares up with the therapist. She's willing to see him if he wants it. I'm going to try and talk him into it. I think he'll benefit from it. It may even help him get a better perspective on the situation with his mom and dad."

"That is wonderful Spencer. I am so glad he opened up to the therapist. Thanks for letting me know. How is the case going?"

"We're making some progress," Reid replied. "So, you must be getting a lot of studying done now that the ambassador's away."

"Ches, that is true. I also attended a study group tonight at a shelter here. It is run by a man I met at the library," Theresa told him.

"What man?" Reid asked.

"His name is Justin Wade. He volunteers at the shelter. He is so nice and very handsome. It was very helpful. He even drove me home."

"To the ambassador's mansion," Reid squeaked. "Did you tell him the ambassador was away?"

"Well ches, that is the reason I could go this evening. He asked me out for coffee?"

"Did you say yes?"

"Not yet," Theresa was beginning to sound confused. "Why?"

"Oh nothing. Well, I better go take a shower and get some sleep. Good night Theresa."

"Good night Spencer," Theresa closed her cell phone looking more baffled than ever.

Spencer sat there for a moment, opened his phone and hit speed dial.

-----------------

At 8:00 am with the sun finally rising and forecasting that the short days of winter were not far away, the BAU team filed into the conference room. "Did you manage to get in touch with Macy's and Ashleigh's parents?" Hotch asked JJ.

"Yeah, I talked to them and both sets of parents were very upset and concerned. They'll be here today. Macy's parents only have to come from Falls Church so it shouldn't take them too long to get here. Ashleigh's from Allentown, Pennsylvania."

"It's very important that we talk to Macy. She may have seen something," Rossi stressed.

"I want a CSI team in the school this morning, while those children are in classes, to remove that camera," Hotch told Detective Judd. "I want them dressed as repairmen or something so the children won't know who they are."

"What about Tim Curtis?" Morgan asked.

"Let's leave him sweat for a while. I'd like to talk to Macy first to see if she saw anything on the night of the murder," Hotch replied.

"Assuming her parents will let her talk to us," Prentiss interjected.

"Yeah, please try to convey the importance of this to them JJ."

"Right Hotch," JJ replied.

Reid's cell rang, "Reid," he said into the instrument.

"Good morning sweet cheeks, how are you this morning?"

"I'm good Garcia, and you?"

"You know me sweet boy, I'm always on top of the world like most goddesses. I did that check for you on this Justin Wade guy."

"And," Reid asked.

"And, he's just what he told Theresa he was. He's got four sisters, he's the middle child. He got decent grades in school. He's no genius like you but he apparently worked hard for B+ grades. He went into trade school after graduating high school and became a plumber/electrician. He makes decent money which he tries to save. He lives alone in a one bedroom apartment. He's volunteered at Samaritan House for a year and a half. There was a blurb about the place in the newspaper where he said, and I quote, 'I wanted to try to make a bit of a difference in the world but I'm not the kind of guy who's gonna make a huge impact so I decided to try and improve my own little corner of the world.' Reid, from everything I can find, he sounds like a super guy. Too bad he's only got sisters."

Reid smiled at Garcia's last remark. "Garcia," he said in feigned shock, "What would Kevin say about that?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I can still look and I can still dream. Keep smiling baby cakes."

"Bye Garcia."

"What was that about?" Morgan asked.

"Top secret," Reid said as he went to fill his coffee cup.

---------------------

Forty-five minutes after the call JJ was talking to Shelia and Rick Hume. Shelia was a small, pretty, dark haired woman while her husband, on the short side around 5'8" had definitely been the donor of Macy's lovely red hair. Rick's anger was palpable even through the walls and windows of the conference room. He looked like he was ready to punch someone and right now it pretty much didn't matter who. Reid couldn't blame him. He'd had to restrain himself when he was in the interrogation room with Tim Curtis although no one would likely believe it. Reid saw the couple stand and shake JJ's hand before heading toward the front of the precinct.

"How did it go?" Hotch asked when JJ joined the rest of the team.

"They're upset, of course. Rick Hume wants to strangle Tim Curtis. Who can blame him?" JJ said.

"What did they say about us talking to Macy?" Hotch was eager to know.

"I told them the importance of it." JJ informed them. "I also promised we'd be very gentle with her but we had to know if she saw anything. They said they appreciated all that but Macy was their first concern. I think they're still trying to get their heads around what's happened."

"So what does that ultimately mean for our investigation?" Morgan inquired.

"It means they're going to talk to Macy and let her decide."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------

"Hurry up Fletcher. We're going to be late for class," Jamal said as the boys sped down the corridor of the boys' dorm which was now deserted as all the students were in their designated classrooms.

"I told you you didn't have to wait for me. Just because you're the klutz that spilled orange juice all over me doesn't mean I can't find my way to Mr. Langston's classroom on my own."

Jamal pushed on the door that led to the foyer just as some men dressed in coveralls that said High Energy Electric were being let into the girls' dorm by Mrs. Halliday. One carried a ladder while two carried what looked like large toolboxes. Fletcher looked at the men closely and shook his head. "Shouldn't you boys be in class?" Mrs. Halliday asked.

"Yes ma'am, we're on our way," Fletcher told her. The boys passed the lounge that had a sign on the door that said, 'closed.'

"What's up with that?" Jamal asked pointing to the lounge door.

"Something's up that's for sure," Fletcher agreed as they headed down the hall that led from the dorms to the classrooms.

------------------------

"So that's why I was feeling the killer was watching me," Macy said after her parents had sequestered her in the first floor lounge and tried to explain about the hidden camera in her room.

"People are in there taking it down right now honey," Shelia Hume held her daughter close, "so you don't have to worry about it any more."

"I don't think I want to go back there Mommy," the red curls swayed back and forth as the little girl shook her head.

"Now Macy, you know this is the best place for you," the mother ran her fingers through Macy's auburn locks attempting to convince her daughter. Shelia, who had barely finished high school with a C- average, found it hard to believe that she and Rick, whose education was no better than hers, had produced a daughter who was a genius. Everyone had agreed that Macy couldn't get what she needed in a public school or in the home with her parents. She simply needed more stimulation than the couple could provide. Although they loved Macy and were very proud of her, it deflated their egos and made them feel that they were holding her back since their seven year old child already knew so much more than they did. They didn't know how to handle her brilliance and nurture it. They had been thrilled when she had received a scholarship to Weinthorpe and appeared to be thriving until the present unfortunate situation had occurred.

"Macy honey, the camera will be gone. You'll be completely safe, I promise," Rick told his daughter.

"But Daddy, what about the murderer; what if he wants to get me?"

"That's another thing, the FBI think you might have seen something the night of the murder. They want to ask you some questions."

"No, no Daddy, I'm not, he'll come after me just like what happened to Fletcher. If I don't say anything, he'll leave me alone."

"Alright sweetie," Rick wiped his little girl's tears with his fingers. "We told them we'd leave it up to you. You don't have to talk to them if you don't want to."

"They think they might already have him," Shelia explained, "and they just need you to say if it's the right man. Then you would know that he's locked away and could never hurt you."

"No Mommy, you just don't understand. Fletcher knows," she whispered. "Fletcher understands."

"Who is this Fletcher?" Rick asked.

"He's a boy here at the school. He saw a murderer once and she tried to kill him. I don't want him to come after me."

"Okay honey," Rick enfolded Macy in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "We won't force you. They'll have to nail the guy without you."

---------------------

"The Humes are here," JJ informed Hotch.

"Thanks JJ, I'll talk to them," Hotch said as he left the conference room and proceeded through the precinct to where Shelia and Rick Hume sat waiting in the front foyer. "Mr. and Mrs. Hume," Hotch said as he approached the couple, introducing himself.

"Agent Hotchner, we just got through talking to Macy. As you can imagine, she was very upset about the camera. She didn't want to go back there but I think we convinced her it was alright," Rick Hume said.

"We also told her you wanted to ask her some questions," Shelia added, "but she got very frightened after that, insisting the killer would try to kill her. She said it happened to some boy at the school."

"Yes," Hotch nodded, "Fletcher Bancroft."

"Yeah, that's what Macy said," Shelia replied. "You know when she was little, I used to think she lied because she'd tell me these things I'd never heard before and that's when we found out they weren't lies, just things she knew. It's so hard to talk to Macy sometimes. She's so smart. She knows so much more than Rick and me. Most of it's way over our heads and she's only seven."

"I understand. We have an agent on our team who's a genius. The things the man knows completely boggle my mind. When I first met him it was like "wow," but as I got to know him and got more used to the fact that he knew things most people didn't, I just accepted it and, of course when needed, used it. I realized that his genius was a part of him like any personality trait is a part of any person. He wasn't trying to belittle anyone with his brilliance, for him it just was. But most of all I learned that underneath that huge intellect was a person just like me. He laughed, he cried, he hurt, he feared, he loved. Once I got beyond his mind, I was able to relate a lot better to Agent Reid."

"We'll try again to convince her. Maybe it was just too much for one morning," Rick said. Macy's parents turned to go. Rick turned back and shook Hotch's hand. "Thank you Agent Hotchner."

----------------------

After coming out of Trevor Langston's science class, Fletcher hit speed dial. "Reid," the voice in his ear said.

"Hi Spencer, what's going on here?" Fletcher asked.

"What do you mean by what's going on?"

"I saw Mrs. Halliday letting some men into the girls' dorm. They wore coveralls that said, High Energy Electric."

"Why are you asking me? The school's obviously having some electrical work done," Reid replied.

"Uh huh," Fletcher didn't sound convinced. "Then how come two of them are the same people I saw the other morning processing the crime scene when Mr. Hay was killed. You know how accurate I am with faces Spencer. They're CSIs and you obviously don't want us to know that. What are they doing in the girls' dorm?"

Reid sighed. Had he ever been this much of a pain in the ass as a kid? "Fletcher, I can't talk to you about an ongoing investigation."

"Even if it concerns me?"

"It doesn't concern you," Reid replied sternly.

"It's my school," came the boy's quick retort.

"That may be true, but everything that happens in your school isn't about you. Aren't you supposed to be in classes?"

"We just got out of science. I'm on my way to English Literature. I already read the play; Macduff gets Macbeth, talk about a psycho serial killer, who should have known better than to listen to witches I might add. Somebody definitely needed to profile that guy!"

"You better get going then. I'll talk to you later." Reid said, giggling at the thought of profiling Macbeth.

Fletcher turned to go into Mrs. Winters classroom and almost ran into Macy Hume who was hurrying down the hallway. "Macy, are you okay?" Fletcher asked.

"No," Macy's face crumbled and her tears began. "I'm scared."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

"Do you think the murderer's still watching you?" Fletcher asked the frightened little girl.

"I know he was. There was a hidden camera in my room. My mommy and daddy just told me in the lounge. The police are taking it out right now."

Fletcher's eyes grew wide, so that's why the lounge had been closed and CSI techs dressed up as electricians had gone into the girls' dorm. "Macy, how did they know the camera was there?"

"I don't know. Mommy said they got the man and they wanted to ask me questions because they thought I saw something."

"Did you see something Macy?"

"Fletcher, Macy, into your classrooms now," Mrs. Winters interrupted, her hand on the door knob waiting to close her door.

"Yes Mrs. Winters," Fletcher said as he entered her classroom leaving Macy to dash into Mr. Forman's math class.

* * *

"The Humes say Macy won't talk to us and they don't want to push her. After what's happened, she's pretty frightened," Hotch told the rest of the team.

"Do you think Curtis' arrest for the child porn will get us a warrant for his office or his truck Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"He continues to deny the murders and we don't have any evidence to the contrary. Dave also made a good point in that Curtis doesn't fit the profile," Hotch said. "If Curtis was going to kill you'd think it would be little girls that reminded him of his sisters or loose women that reminded him of his mother or grandmother. Let's see what a judge has to say."

"What if Doug Hay knew something? That would have given Curtis a motive wouldn't it?" Reid interjected.

"It would have given him a motive for Hay, yeah," Prentiss agreed, "but what about the other two?" She stood up and paced the room stopping in front of the photographs of the dead men. "I mean if he wanted it to look like part of a serial killer's ritual, would he pick two men he could actually be connected to? And with his work at the school would he have had the time the unsub obviously needed to stalk his victims?"

The other team members couldn't help but notice the scowl on Reid's face as he considered Prentiss' logic. "Look Reid," Rossi said, remembering Reid's relentless attitude in Las Vegas when he was determined to pin the murder of a child on his own father. "I know you want it to be Curtis because of his betrayal of the trust that you and all the other parents put in him. But before we put a fork in him, I think we need to be sure. Right now, I for one, am not."

"I'm going to see about that warrant," Hotch said, rising and leaving the room.

* * *

"Grab a tray for me and find me a seat, will ya?" Fletcher asked Jamal. "We ran from the room so fast this morning I forgot my history book. I need it for first period." Fletcher took off in the opposite direction from the dining room to the dorm rooms. He slid his key card into the slot and entered the dorm dashing down the hallway to his room. He dropped off the books from the morning's classes on his desk and dug out his history textbook. "Okay mac and cheese, here I come." He turned toward the door and then turned back to see if the glimpse that had caught his eye had been correct. He moved towards the window. The yellow crime scene tape was still up, though he wasn't quite sure why. What more could they glean from the area? At this moment, instead of being in the dining room enjoying macaroni and cheese, Macy Hume stood in the middle of the crime scene tape.

Fletcher found his eyes darting all around the parking lot. Macy had said there had been a camera in her room and her parents had told her this morning that someone had been watching her. He and Jamal had seen the lounge was closed and CSI techs were entering the dorm, Fletcher surmised. He was sure Macy was not being a hysterical little girl. She was scared with good reason. Oh well, he thought as he watched Macy standing out in the brisk fall weather without so much as a sweater covering her slight form, there was no other answer. He threw his history book on the bed and ran down the corridor of the dorm. When he reached the foyer, instead of turning right to the dining room, he turned left to the back door and the faculty parking lot.

-------------------

Hotch reentered the conference room. "Judge Decker is signing the search warrant. As soon as we get it we can search Curtis' truck and his office. I'm having the truck towed in to the impound lot. Rossi and Prentiss, go and search that, Morgan and Reid, you've got Curtis' office at Weinthorpe. JJ and I will stay here and run point with Garcia."

Detective Judd poked his head in the door handing Hotch a piece of paper, "Warrant's here."

Hotch handed Reid the warrant as he and Morgan headed out the door.

"What are you thinking?" Morgan asked as they drove through the midday traffic.

"I was thinking about Fletcher. How much is too much Morgan? He's eight and he's already been on the periphery of three separate incidents involving violent death. How do I protect him?"

"That's probably every parent's biggest challenge, how to protect their kids from the world without locking them up," Morgan responded. "There's no easy answer and I'm afraid it's not something you're going to find in your arsenal of books."

"You're right about that," Reid agreed as he looked out the window of the SUV.

"But hey, look at it this way, he's better off than he was a few months ago," Morgan attempted to reassure his friend.

"Is he? Back in San Fran he had Theresa and this school stuff wouldn't have happened," Reid replied.

"Look, maybe it wouldn't have but I don't think Fletcher would trade that for what he's got now. I think he's secure in your love for him and in this odd little makeshift family we got going on here."

"I hope so Morgan, I certainly hope so."

* * *

"Macy, are you okay?" Fletcher approached the little girl slowly. He could see her teeth chattering as the cold breeze seemed to rip right through her.

"I…I h…had to come out h…here. I d…don't know why."

"Maybe you should come back inside. It's cold out here." Fletcher slipped off the thin nylon jacket he wore with his navy cords and his blue and white striped polo shirt. "Here," he stood behind Macy. "Put this on, you're shivering."

The girl slid her arms into the jacket. "Thank you F…Fletcher."

"It's okay Macy. You'll get through it. I'll help you."

* * *

"Oh Dr. Reid, you're back again. How nice to see you," Mrs. Halliday said as she batted her eyelashes at Reid. Morgan rolled his eyes and it took all his inner strength to keep from laughing. Reid produced the warrant. "Oh…oh dear, we heard about the camera, of course, so hard to believe, and those men were here this morning to remove it but," she looked at the warrant again, "oh dear!"

"Tee he he," Morgan snickered after they'd closed the door on the smitten secretary and he donned his latex gloves to begin his search of an oak credenza against one wall of Tim Curtis' office. "How nice to see you," he repeated Mrs. Halliday's words in a high pitch shrill. "Oh man, you've got her girdle in a knot."

"Shut up Morgan." Reid began searching through the drawers in the principal's desk. He looked at the desktop. "Here's the newsletter," he picked up the piece of paper and pulled a plastic bag from his pocket shaking it open and placing the newsletter inside. He then secured it with red tamper proof tape and marked it with the date, time and his initials.

"No knife here," Morgan said as he finished with the credenza.

"Nothing in the desk either," Reid added. "Maybe Rossi and Emily will have better luck with the tr…what the…?" Reid walked toward the window that looked into the parking lot. Fletcher and Macy Hume stood within the crime scene tape. He dashed from the room.

"Reid," Morgan called after him running behind.

"Macy, let's go inside. You'll feel better. The teachers will be wondering where we are." Fletcher attempted to convince the frightened little girl.

The pair turned toward the school just as the back door burst open. Reid was striding toward them with Morgan on his heels when Macy began to scream. "Macy, what's wrong?" Fletcher asked.

Macy raised a shaky hand, pointing it at Reid and screamed, "It's him, it's the killer!"


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

Macy raised a shaky hand, pointing it at Reid and screamed, "It's him, it's the killer!"

Fletcher's, Reid's and Morgan's mouths dropped open simultaneously. The little girl backed away from the men towards Fletcher and she grasped his hand whispering, "What do we do Fletcher?"

Reid and Morgan had stopped in their tracks believing further advancement would only cause the child more distress. She seemed to trust Fletcher. He'd likely be most able to reach her.

"Macy, Macy listen to me," he turned the girl so she looked in his eyes. "This isn't the killer Macy. This is my guardian, Spencer Reid. He's an FBI agent. He's here trying to find the killer. You remember, he talked to us in assembly the other day. I'll show you." Fletcher reached out his hand to Reid who dug in his pocket for his credentials and handed them to the boy. Fletcher opened the ID and showed it to the girl. "See Macy, there's his picture, he's an FBI agent. He's not a murderer."

Macy took the credentials in her hand, read them and handed them back to Fletcher. "You look just like him and for a moment I thought…" she said to Reid, "but I know you're not, now that I see you close up. Mr. Hay was about six feet tall. You're taller than Mr. Hay and the killer was shorter than him."

"Did you get a good look at his face Macy?" Reid asked.

The girl nodded, "Not a long look, only as long as the lightning lit up the parking lot but there were a few flashes in a row. He had a hoodie on but the wind had blown it off his head so his face was visible. For the time I did see him, I got a good look or as good as I could get through all the rain."

"What happened Macy?" Morgan asked.

The girl looked frightened again. "Macy," Fletcher said, "close your eyes and imagine the images on a movie screen and they're moving in slow motion. That's what I did when I was a witness."

The girl closed her eyes, "Mr. Hay was at his car and turned towards those trees," she pointed to them with her finger without opening her eyes. He's saying something. The man comes up to him and Mr. Hay looks surprised but not scared. The man raises his hand up and there's a knife in it. He stabs Mr. Hay before he has time to react and he keeps stabbing him over and over." Tears ran down the girl's face. "Then he ran away and Mr. Hay was just lying on the ground."

"That's all I can remember." She opened her eyes and the tears came faster. "I just stood there. I couldn't move. It's like my feet were in cement. I know I should have called someone but I couldn't move. It's all my fault isn't it?"

"No, Macy," Morgan said, "it's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done. Mr. Hay was already dead." He crouched down until he was on her level. "Would you be willing to come to the precinct and tell us about it," he asked. "We'll call your mom and dad and they can be there for you, how's that?"

"I…I don't know." She sniffed, her cheeks still wet from her tears. "Can Fletcher come too?"

"Well, I really don't think…" Reid began.

"Sure, I'll go if you want me to Macy," Fletcher interrupted.

"Thanks Fletcher."

"I'll go talk to Mrs. Halliday and let her know what's going on," Morgan said. "Why don't you load the kids into the SUV and call Hotch so he can get hold of Macy's parents?" With that he turned and walked back toward the building.

"Are you okay with that Macy?" Reid asked.

She looked at Fletcher who nodded at her, "Yeah, okay," she replied.

* * *

The foursome walked into the conference room some forty minutes later. Fletcher waved a greeting to the team as they entered. "Macy's parents are on the way," JJ told Reid. She bent down to the little girl they had seen on Tim Curtis' computer screen. The small face, dominated by innocent blue eyes that were like saucers, was surrounded by a cascade of auburn curls. "You must be Macy. It's so nice to meet you, I'm JJ."

"Hi," the girl said timidly.

While JJ was talking to Macy, Morgan took the others aside. "We know a little more than we did before," he whispered. "She saw the killer and he apparently looks a lot like Reid. She was really spooked at first when she saw him but once he got close she said it wasn't him. She said Hay was six feet tall and that she could see Reid was taller than that while the killer, she maintains, is shorter. She said she got a good look at him and if she's got anywhere near the same kind of attention to detail that Fletcher has, we might be able to get a good description. She wouldn't come without Fletcher though. She seems to really trust him for some reason."

"I'm sorry about this bud," Reid took Fletcher off to a corner of the room while JJ talked to Macy and Morgan talked to the rest of the team. He was glad to see that the white board was now devoid of the crime scene photos although pictures of the three men were still tacked up.

"It's okay Spencer."

"No, Fletcher, it's not okay. I hate that you seem to be continually drawn into these violent deaths. You're eight and you're already having nightmares. It's not good for you."

"You deal with it every day," the boy countered.

"Yes I do but I don't want it to touch you."

"Spencer, I look at it this way," he extended his arms and shrugged. "If I hadn't seen Muriel Dressler that day, more ladies would have been killed and…" he put up his hand when Spencer was about to speak, "I wouldn't have met you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. So, in a way, I guess the day I saw Muriel through my telescope was my lucky day."

Reid felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He lips trembled. "You," he said shakily to the boy, "make me a better man."

"And I know when I grow up I'm going to be a better man than I would have been because of you." Fletcher put his arms around Reid's neck and hugged him close. Reid embraced the boy and lifted him into his arms as a lone tear that would not be checked tricked slowly down his cheek.

"Reid," Morgan continued, whispering to the others, "didn't want Fletcher to come. He's worried that there's too much violent death in his life. He wants to protect him."

"He's right," Hotch replied sternly. "As much as we need to question Macy and get the information this little girl has to offer, I don't have to like it."

"Macy!" they heard being shouted loudly. Rick and Shelia Hume stood in the doorway of the conference room and the child ran to them. The couple surrounded her and embraced her warmly.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay daddy." She took his hand leading him into the room. "This is my friend, Fletcher."

"Hi Fletcher, thanks for helping Macy out," the girl's father said. He turned to Hotch, "What happens now?"

"We just want to ask Macy some questions to find out what happened and learn as much as we can about the man who did this. If at any point Macy becomes distressed, we'll stop okay?"

Macy sat on one of the tan tweed swivel chairs, her tiny feet barely dangling over the edge of the seat while Hotch said, "Macy, why don't you tell us what you told agents Morgan and Reid."

Macy recounted what she'd said at the school. Her parents looked shaken by what she'd seen. When she was finished Prentiss, who Hotch had asked to do most of the questioning, inquired, "Macy did you recognize this man?"

"No, I'd never seen him before," she told them.

Well that let out Tim Curtis, didn't it, Reid thought.

"So he was a man you'd never seen before who looked something like Agent Reid?"

"Yes," Macy agreed.

"Do you think if we sat you down with a sketch artist you could describe him?" Prentiss asked.

"I could try but it was raining really hard so it's like I was looking at him through a sheet. It might not be too accurate."

"That's okay Macy." A sketch artist was called in and took Macy and her parents off to another room leaving the team and Fletcher alone.

JJ was looking at the pictures of the victims on the white board. "I always thought Reid looked like a younger version of the victims. Now we find out instead that he looks like the unsub."

"Yeah," Prentiss agreed, "I remember thinking that Reid could have been their younger brother."

"Did Mr. Hay have a younger brother?" Fletcher asked.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------

"What do you mean Fletcher?" Morgan asked.

"Well, Macy said that Mr. Hay was talking to someone. Then she said he looked surprised but not afraid. He wouldn't be afraid of his own brother would he? But he would be surprised to see him in the parking lot at the school especially with the storm and all."

The team, except for Reid, looked shocked at Fletcher's interpretation of the events of the night of Doug Hay's murder. Suddenly Hotch pushed some buttons on the phone. _"Your supreme goddess, prepare to pay homage."_

"Garcia," Hotch said, "check and see if Doug Hay had a brother."

"_A brother, of course sir," _she could be heard tapping her computer keys. _"You don't actually think his brother could have…"_

"Why not Garcia, go back to the first murder?" Fletcher interjected.

"_Is that you Fletcher? What are you doing there sweetie?"_

"It's a long story Garcia," Reid replied.

"_Go back to the first murder," _Garcia repeated. _"You mean Jeff Blaylock?"_

"No Garcia," Fletcher stated as if talking to a moron. "You were doubtful whether one brother would kill another and I said go back to the first murder, I mean the very first murder, you know, Cain and Abel."

The members of the team exchanged why didn't we think of that glances until they heard Garcia's voice once again. "_Doug Hay had a younger brother named Dean. He's twenty-two years old, lives in an apartment in a building called Millard Arms. Nix on a steady job. He apparently lived off a trust from dear old dad but that's run out and his bank account is almost nil. He drives a pretty expensive Mercedes though which is continually involved in traffic violations. He enrolled in Boston College when he was eighteen but dropped out during his first semester. He's been arrested twice for DUI. Apparently daddy paid the fines. He was named in a paternity suit filed by a Judy Ralph but she didn't get any money from him because daddy apparently shut off the tap."_

"Garcia, was there ever any mention of abuse by a teacher?" Emily asked.

The computer tech could be heard tapping on the keys once again. "_No sunshine, nothing, sorry. There's no record of any school at all. It appears he was privately schooled at home and if that happened the Hay family would have had the funds to keep something like that quiet."_

"Keep digging Garcia," Hotch said as he ended the call.

"I guess we need to pay Dean Hay a visit," Morgan said eagerly.

"And say what?" Rossi inquired, "that the killer looks like he could be a brother to the three victims. We've got no evidence and no cause to bring him in although, from what Garcia just told us, he does fit the profile."

"So what do we do now, put a tail on him and wait until he tries to kill again?" JJ suggested. "Or do you think that Doug Hay was his last target and now he's gone, he'll quit?"

"Guys," Reid said, "I'm going to take Fletcher to the vending machine to get a soda." He nudged the boy towards the door.

"Aw Spencer, come on, I'm not a baby," the boy pouted.

"No, you're not, but you're only eight. You're not an adult and I don't want you dealing with adult things before your time." He pushed the boy gently ahead of him.

"He knows so much," Hotch looked appropriately chastised. "I almost forget how young he is."

"To answer your question JJ," Rossi said, "I don't think it's over. Stopping at Hay would bring attention to that kill and our unsub doesn't want to do that. I think Reid was right when he suggested, like Muhammad and Malvo, only one of these men was the real target. But, as with those two, plans changed. I think in the process of getting to his brother Dean Hay has discovered he likes to kill. Through the killings of Blaylock and Fenmore the unsub has learned something about himself, that he enjoys killing. He's been getting more aggressive with each kill. He's always been a loser. This makes him feel powerful. I don't think he'll stop until we catch him.

"So what do we do?" JJ asked.

"We keep an eye on Eugene Kennedy. If he sticks to his previous pattern as Reid suggested, Kennedy will be the next victim and we'll be able to catch him in the act," Hotch responded. "Especially if he has no idea we're on to him."

"We shouldn't have to wait too long either," Emily postulated. "He seems to be devolving."

-------------------

Reid and Fletcher stood in front of the vending machine in the Baltimore precinct, both remembering when they had done the same thing in San Francisco. "You don't have to protect me you know," Fletcher said. "I know what you do."

"Knowing what I do and being a part of what I do are two different things. And yes, I have to protect you. It's my job as your guardian." He crouched down in front of the boy, "And it's one I took on gladly and with someone as smart as you it's not always easy. There are things in this life you don't need to know about at eight years old no matter how brilliant you are. You're already having nightmares. Don't be in such an all fired hurry to grow up. It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"I'm almost nine," Fletcher blurted out as they headed toward the break room with their sodas and Snickers bars.

"Oh well then, that makes all the difference," Reid said sarcastically.

"Ha ha Spencer, very funny." The pair sat at the round table topped with speckled laminate in a charcoal grey surrounded by chairs upholstered in a maroon vinyl pattern. The room, at the moment, was empty.

"Look, I know you're excited by all this and that you and Jamal enjoyed playing little FBI agents. That part of it is healthy when it's make believe but I don't want you involved in the real thing, not yet, not again. If, like you say, you choose to do something like this as a career someday, that's another thing but right now you're too young to be surrounded by all this violence. That's not what I want your life to be about."

"Spencer, how could I say no to Macy? She was scared of you guys, she thought you were the murderer for God's sake."

"I've made a decision," Reid said after taking a sip of his soda.

"What kind of a decision?" Fletcher asked warily as he chewed on his candy bar.

"You and I are going to start doing things together that have nothing whatsoever to do with my job, guy things. We can include Jamal if you want and his parents agree and maybe we can get Morgan to join in."

"What kind of 'guy things' are you talking about?" the boy asked.

"Well, I haven't really figured that out yet," Reid replied. Not having a father to guide him since the age of ten he wasn't really sure but he hoped he'd think of something. He needed to get Fletcher involved in kid things. "Maybe some Orioles games and…uh movies; do you like movies?"

"Sure I like movies Spencer. Not that I've been to many. Mom and Dad never took me. I usually just saw them on DVDs at home."

"Good, we could do movies, nothing too violent though. What kind of movies do you like?"

"I like animated movies and movies with computer generated imagery, they're cool!"

"CGI is good," Reid agreed, nodding his head.

"Yeah," Fletcher said excitedly, "there's a new chipmunks movie coming out."

"You like the chipmunks?" Reid sounded surprised.

"Sure, especially Simon."

"What's not to like?"

* * *

"We need to find out everything we can about Dean Hay. Garcia will be able to follow any documented trail but we'll need to talk to people who know this man," Hotch said.

"Hotch, that might not be so easy," JJ interjected. "Rossi and I visited Winston Hay. The man's extremely ill Hotch. He's dying and he just lost one son. If we go in there and start questioning him about his other son, I'm afraid it'll kill him." Hotch looked at Rossi for confirmation and he nodded.

"He's gonna find out about it anyway once it all comes out," Morgan said. "Isn't it better to question him now and cushion the blow rather than shock him with it later?"

As Hotch considered what Morgan had suggested, Emily spoke up. "Why don't we compromise and talk as discreetly as possible to the staff at the Hay mansion. I've lived with enough servants in my life to know that although they're sworn to secrecy about what goes on inside the homes of their employers, they know pretty much everything."

"That's a good idea Prentiss. We'll start with the staff; see if we can get confirmation of any abuse in Dean's childhood and his relationships with his father and his brother. Then I'll decide what to do about Winston Hay." A knock on the door interrupted Hotch. A stout man with curly grey hair dressed in a BPD uniform opened the door, "The sketch is ready."


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

This time the door of the Hay estate was opened by a tall thin woman dressed in a rather severe black suit. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss and Morgan flashed their badges. The woman was plain with straight grey hair that she had curled under at the edges just below her chin. "How may I help the FBI?" she asked. "Mr. Hay is really not up to seeing people."

"We're not here to see Mr. Hay," JJ told her. "We were hoping to spare him some of this due to his health. We'd like to speak to the staff if we could."

"How many staff work here?" Emily asked.

"Well there's myself, Claire Merkelson," she clarified. "I've been with the family for twenty-six years and basically run the household. Marsha Benedict is the housekeeper, Bonnie Carpenter, the cook. Terry Leonard is Mr. Hay's private nurse, Alan Creasy is the groundskeeper and general handyman and Rocco Auriti is Mr. Hay's chauffer/bodyguard although he rarely goes out anymore."

"Perhaps Agent Jareau and I could talk to you first since you have been here the longest I presume. Maybe you could arrange for Agents Morgan and Prentiss to talk to the others," Rossi said.

"Certainly," Merkelson replied. "I'll just inform the others." She led them to the room where they had previously spoken to Winston Hay. "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll talk to the others." She turned sharply and left the room.

"She's kind of a cold fish," Prentiss remarked after the woman had departed.

Morgan was walking around eyeing the rich mahogany furniture and plush upholstery. "Some place they got here. I'd find a place like this hard to get comfortable in. It's like a castle. You'd be afraid to put your feet up."

"You get used to it," Prentiss said as Claire Merkelson returned accompanied by the woman who'd admitted the agents the other day.

"They're all to meet in the kitchen and talk to you one on one in the dining room or all together if you prefer. Marsha will show you where to go," she gestured to the housekeeper. Prentiss and Morgan followed the woman.

Merkelson sat on one of the sofas facing Rossi and JJ who sat on the other. "We're trying to get a feel for the Hay family. Often getting to know the victim better will tell us more about his killer. Mr. Hay said he hadn't talked to Doug in a while, they weren't close?" Rossi began.

"They were close in some ways," they could see Merkelson was trying to choose her words carefully. "Winston Hay loved Doug very much. They just had a difference in ideology. Winston wanted Doug to run the company but Doug had no interest in that. He loved teaching. He always said he thought that he learned more from the young minds he was trying to mold than they did from him. I think that's what made him such a good teacher. He didn't just lay out the facts for them to learn. He said one day, 'Claire, they give me a new perspective on every answer I thought I knew.' He'll be a great loss to education." The woman's eyes teared up.

"What about Dean?" JJ asked. "Was Doug close to Dean?"

"Dean!" The woman seemed surprised at the mention of his name. She thought for a moment. "No one was really close to Dean, poor boy. Winston Hay spent a lot of years building his empire. He was over forty when Doug was born but he was happy because he had an heir to carry on the business. Loretta doted a lot on Doug as a child because Winston was away so much with the business. I know this because I worked for Hay Pharmaceuticals before taking this job."

"Anyway, as I said, the Hays were happy with Doug. Mr. Hay had built his empire by the time Doug was grown and had decided to cut back so he and Loretta could travel. Doug was about to go off to college when Loretta discovered she was pregnant. Dean was a post menopause baby and a total surprise to Winston and Loretta. Doug was away at college when Dean was born and Winston and Loretta didn't feel like giving up their plans for traveling and seeing the world to raise another child so Dean was mostly cared for by nannies. He and Doug weren't close because he was busy with college and all it entailed. Then after college, he started teaching. They never really even lived together, Doug and Dean."

"Did Dean ever have a problem with a teacher?" Rossi asked.

Merkelson's head snapped up quickly, "How did you know about that?" she retorted.

-------------------

Hotch looked at the sketch Macy had described. "It does look a lot like you Reid. I can see why she was spooked when she saw you."

Reid punched some numbers on the phone. "_Penelope Garcia, FBI, that's fabulous, beautiful and incredible. What can I do ya for?"_

"Garcia, can you get us a picture of Dean Hay?"

"_Of course, my favorite junior G man. It will be coming through your fax machine momentarily. Garcia out." _A click and she was gone.

Mere moments later the fax machine spit out a picture. Dean Hay's driver's license photo showed a man with brown hair, brown eyes, 5' 10". "Doug Hay was just six feet, I checked," Reid said. "Macy said he was shorter than her teacher."

Hotch looked at the sketch and back at the driver's license photo. "It's not the greatest match in history but it is remarkable detail from a little girl in a storm. It looks like we may have our man."

"Do you think it's enough to get a warrant for the knife?"

"I'm not sure," Hotch said. "The sketch looks like a lot of men including you. Any lawyer might be able to quash it saying Macy couldn't have gotten that good a look in the storm. I think we'll need more."

* * *

"I didn't see Dean very often and what I did see, I didn't like. Not that I didn't feel for the guy. I've heard that he didn't have an easy life in this house so I guess he rebelled and I can't say I blame him. The reason I didn't like him was because whenever he came here he'd upset my patient and I'd have a devil of a time getting him calmed down and his breathing under control so I'm just as happy if Dean doesn't come around." Terry Leonard told Morgan and Prentiss.

* * *

"I never hardly saw him," Alan Creasy said. "I'm mostly outside on the grounds or in the shed where I do my handyman jobs. Dean was never one to come out there and talk to the likes of me."

* * *

"Mr. Doug was a very nice man. He always had a kind word for me and the others," Marsha Benedict told the pair.

"What about Dean?" Morgan asked as innocently as he could.

"Mr. Dean, he wasn't here very much, only when he wanted money from his old man. Mr. Hay, apparently he gave them the same amount in a trust fund but Mr. Doug, he never touched his while Mr. Dean spent it all. So then he would come here and argue with Mr. Hay over money. Mr. Hay would always throw Mr. Doug in Mr. Dean's face and Mr. Dean would get angry."

"Do you know if anything ever happened to Dean when he was younger?" Prentiss asked.

"I know something happened but I don't know when, I didn't work here then. Mr. Dean would always bring it up to Mr. Hay. Mr. Hay would always say he'd taken care of it. I didn't know what that meant."

"What was the relationship like between Doug and Dean?" Morgan inquired.

"I think Mr. Dean resented Mr. Doug. It was obvious that Mr. Doug was Mr. Hay's favorite."

"I mostly just cooked for him," Bonnie Carpenter said as she played with the material of her apron. "I'd make his favorite dishes when he came but Dean Hay never talked to me."

"Did you ever witness any arguments between him and his father or brother," Prentiss probed.

"Well, I'd hear the odd thing when I was serving or clearing the table. Mr. Hay was always giving Dean the gears because he spent all his money and didn't have any education and such. He told him he wished he was more like Doug."

* * *

"What happened?" Rossi asked.

"Nothing was ever really said but from what I understand there may have been some inappropriate conduct between Dean and his teacher David Major."

"There was no police report filed!" JJ looked surprised.

"Oh my goodness no, the Hays didn't want that kind of scandal associated with their name." She paused for a moment. "Dean's birth was so unexpected. Loretta Hay didn't think she was capable of having any more children, nor did she want to. She and Winston had raised their child. So they sort of pawned the job off on others, a live in nanny, and a live in teacher so they wouldn't have to deal with schools."

"Dean was a lonely boy. Doug was eighteen and away at college when he was born. He had his own life. Loretta and Winston traveled so there wasn't much of a connection between them and Dean."

"So what did they do about David Major?" Rossi was curious.

"Well, I'm not really sure. He was here one day and then he wasn't. The last time anyone here saw him he was driving away in his car…with Rocco."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-------------------

"Dean Hay certainly looks like a viable suspect," Morgan stated as the team gathered around the table in the conference room.

"Get Garcia to find us everything she can on David Major," Hotch ordered. Morgan pulled out his cell and hit speed dial.

"The sketch does resemble Dean Hay," Emily said, looking back and forth between the sketch and the photo Garcia had sent while Morgan talked to the tech on the phone.

"Yeah but it also looks a lot like Reid who Macy had just seen prior to giving her description. She even thought Reid was the unsub when he first approached Macy and Fletcher," Rossi replied. "Any lawyer worth his salt is going to get that sketch thrown out and we're back to square one. I don't think it'll get us a warrant to look for the knife."

"So what do we d…?" Morgan began when his cell rang. "Talk to me baby girl."

"_Okay, I've been looking into David Major who was Dean's teacher like you asked. There was a lot on him until about twelve years ago and then nada. He graduated from the University of Virginia, taught at a few schools before he went to work for the Hays. He never married. He was dismissed from three of the schools that he worked for but inappropriate conduct was never mentioned. Charges were never filed against him but that may have been the schools wanting to avoid a scandal." _Garcia told the group as Morgan held out his cell phone._ "Anyway, there's absolutely no record of the guy going anywhere since the Hays. He didn't clean out any bank accounts, no tax returns have been filed. He doesn't show up on any missing persons list or as an inmate in any prison. He's either gone way underground or he's vanished off the face to the earth," _the tech concluded_._

"Okay, thanks Mama," Morgan closed his cell.

"Well now that's interesting," Rossi remarked. "The last time David Major was seen, he was driving off the Hay estate in the company of Rocco Auriti, the bodyguard/chauffer for Winston Hay, and then suddenly he's never seen or heard from again. Maybe he has been underground all these years, buried underground."

"Obviously nobody missed the scumbag," Morgan replied. "You think Hay had Rocco take him out?"

"That could be why he's never been heard from again and also why Winston Hay had assured Dean he'd taken care of David Major," Emily remarked.

"And," Hotch added, "If he was a pedophile, he was not likely to have just stopped. He wouldn't have been able to. He would have shown up somewhere."

"Do you think that Dean realized that his father may have had David Major murdered and, if so, perhaps that contributed to his decision to murder to get what he wants?" JJ queried.

"Which is what?" Morgan asked.

"The Hay fortune," Reid replied. "Gainful employment is obviously not one of Dean Hay's objectives in life. The well was drying up. His trust was gone. Winston Hay is going to die soon. You figure most of the estate, especially the business, would go to Doug, the reliable son. That's why Dean had to get Doug out of the picture before Winston died so that he'd be the only living relative entitled to the estate."

"But he had to do it in such a way," Morgan continued, "as to look like one in a series of murders of teachers, leading any investigator down that line and away from what they usually follow…"

"The money," Emily finished.

"That's probably what made him lessen the intervals between kills. It may be that Dean's devolving but it also may mean that he had to get to Doug before their father died since Doug might have left a will that left nothing to Dean," Hotch said.

"So what's our best course of action?" Emily asked.

"Let's haul his ass in here and get him to confess," Morgan suggested.

"We have no evidence that Dean Hay is involved, though he does fit the profile. If we haul him in here and get nothing, we have to let him go in 72 hours," Hotch reminded Morgan. "Then he'd know we were on to him. Right now he has no idea. He thinks he's in the clear. If he knows we're on to him he'll be more careful, expecting us to be watching. He may just bide his time."

"I don't think the sketch is going to get us a warrant to search for the knife or examine his car," Rossi said. "Maybe Garcia could find out if Hay had his front end repaired recently." Morgan pulled out his cell again and made the call.

"So what are our options?" JJ asked.

"We could follow Hay but that might be counterproductive if he realizes we're on to him like I mentioned before. Our other option is to keep an eye on Eugene Kennedy. Reid seems to think he's the next target so if we keep an eye on him we might be able to catch Hay in the act," the unit chief explained.

* * *

Morgan scowled as he poured a cup of coffee from the pot into the black mug he held. "Is it that bad?" Reid asked as he came up behind him to pour his own coffee.

Morgan looked at the cup, "No, I was just thinking…"

"That Dean Hay went through what you did," Reid finished for him.

"Yeah, only he told somebody and what did he get, the teacher dragged away and possibly murdered while the whole thing was swept under the rug like it never happened," Morgan whispered so the other cops in the area couldn't hear them.

"You're identifying with the unsub, been there, done that. In the end he's still a serial killer we have to bring in."

"I know and I know he's not Owen Savage, he not striking out at people who hurt him but innocent men. I'm just angry that it came to this."

* * *

Dean Hay ran his hand over the shiny blade of the knife he'd used to kill three men. His fingers skimmed over the sharp edge of the blade. It was supposed to be a means to an end, a way to get rid of his brother without being suspected. When had it changed to something else? Was it when he felt the rush, the feeling of power that taking another life in his hands gave him? When he had felt the lightning flash around him it was as if the electricity surged right through him, totally awakening him for the first time. He'd watched in the darkness as the downpour had washed away that precious Hay blood that had flowed through his brother's body. "Take that Doug; take that Dad!" Soon he would be the only Hay left and the empire would be his. Finally he would get some recognition as a member of the Hay family.

But now that his original goal had been achieved, he didn't want to stop, to relinquish the power that killing gave him. His hand curled around the wooden handle as he waved the knife back and forth, cutting the air. He approached the table and picked up the newsletter he'd stolen from his brother's desk when this scheme had first presented itself in his mind. He laughed. And his brother had thought he was stupid. He'd gotten rid of his main adversary but there were others out there just like Doug. He returned the paper to the table and suddenly punctured the knife through a man's picture and into the table. "Eugene Kennedy, you're next." His laughter echoed throughout the room.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

"Garcia," the tech said into her cell as she got ready to head home for the evening.

"_Hello Garcia, it is Theresa calling_," the voice said in her ear.

"Hi Theresa, how are you doing?"

"_I am very good Garcia but I have a little problem_," Theresa admitted.

"Tell me," Garcia sat back in her chair and put her purse on the desk.

"_Garcia, I have a date_," the young Mexican woman informed her.

"Honey, that's not usually considered a problem," the blond whose hair was today streaked with blue chuckled.

"_Garcia, I do not know dates with men. I do not know what to wear."_

"And you're asking me of all people for advice," the blonde's eyebrows rose. "Who are you going out with, the plumber?"

"_Ches_," Theresa sounded surprised. "_I did not think I had mentioned him to you."_

"Oh, you didn't, but I did a…uh hear about it from Reid. So," she carried on quickly, "tell me about this date…"

* * *

Theresa twirled in front of the full length mirror in her room, a luxury she hadn't had in her room in San Francisco. She wore the ensemble she'd worn when she first arrived here. Garcia said that had sounded most appropriate for dinner and a movie.

She had been surprised when Justin had called and asked her to go out with him. He'd asked if dinner and a movie would be alright with her. Theresa had been somewhat surprised by the question. In the life she'd led, men had never asked what was alright with her. They had just taken. She'd never been to dinner except for those she'd had with Spencer and Fletcher and she'd never been to a movie. Theresa stared at her reflection, amazed at the transformation of the woman who'd fled Mexico a few short years ago. The white tank, offset by the gold corduroy waist length bolero style jacket and the white, gold and brown knee length plaid skirt was now even more stylish with the addition of the tiger eye earrings and necklace the girls had given her. Soft bangs feathered her forehead; her hair was now cut in a shaggier razor cut that turned under a little below her chin and framed her face beautifully from her deep brown eyes to her sensuous lips. She smiled at the woman in the mirror and the woman smiled back.

"Reid," the profiler said into his cell.

"_Hello my favorite junior G man."_

"What's up Garcia?"

"_I was just talking to Theresa. She's going out on a date with Justin,_" she informed him.

Reid looked puzzled. "Uh…that's nice. So you called me to tell me that?"

"_Not exactly, Theresa mentioned something else when we talked. Do you know what's in three weeks?"_ the tech asked.

"Three weeks," Reid appeared to be racking his brain.

"_Does a cake with candles give you a hint?"_

"A birthday…"

"_Way to go genius, keep going_."

"Fletcher's birthday," Reid finally latched onto Garcia's hints.

"_Reid, Theresa was wondering if you had anything planned. She said as long as she was with the Bancrofts he never had a party. But since you weren't even clued in that his birthday's coming up, you likely don't have any plans."_

"I never had birthday parties myself but I'll have to do something. I don't know the first thing about planning a birthday party."

"_Then aren't you lucky that Theresa and I are willing to help_."

* * *

Justin and Theresa were ensconced at a table in the B Street Bistro. Theresa tried to look everywhere at once, having so seldom been to a restaurant. The square tables were covered with gold tablecloths that matched the wall coloring. The carpet was a pattern of navy blue and gold, the pattern was echoed on a smaller scale on the upholstery of the chairs. Expertly folded navy blue napkins sat at each place setting next to the cutlery and the water glasses. Smoky glass sconces on the wall provided muted lighting while the flickering light from the flame of a hurricane lantern lit their table.

It didn't bother Justin that, at the moment, Theresa seemed more interested in her surroundings than she was with him. He understood from what she'd told him that this was all new to her. He was content to look at her as he tried, once again, to believe his good fortune at having her sitting across the table from him. She was the culmination of all his dreams since he was a kid in high school, never the best looking, never the smartest; he was the date that had been okay until something better came along. Yet here he was sitting across from this stunning woman who seemed truly happy to be with him. She was kind, caring and fun to be with and he wanted his time with her to go on forever. How could he think about that when he hadn't known her that long? Was there such a thing as love at first sight? He knew she needed time. From what she'd told him, she'd been so beaten down in her life, she was now finally gaining her freedom and self respect. It was something she needed and deserved. He could wait as long as it took. It was like watching a beautiful butterfly finally escape from its cocoon. As he looked at her some words of his oldest sister Sarah's favorite song came to his mind. She'd played it so many times on the old piano in their dining room; he could recite it from memory.

_When the night has been too lonely_

_And the road has been to long_

_And you think that love is only_

_For the lucky and the strong._

_Just remember in the winter_

_Far beneath the bitter snows_

_Lies the seed that with the sun's love_

_In the spring becomes the rose._

* * *

Theresa's head almost spun around on its own when they entered the multiplex with people scurrying everywhere and the huge signs advertising the movies that were playing. "Is there anything special you'd like to see?" Justin asked.

"Justin, I have never been to the movies. I do not know, you choose."

Justin looked at the offerings. He didn't think she'd be a big fan of science fiction and he wanted to steer clear of anything too violent and racy. That left him with comedies or chick flicks. Comedy could sometimes be rather unrefined so a chick flick was the way to go he decided as he purchased two tickets and headed for the refreshment counter.

"Justin, we just ate a while ago," Theresa reminded him.

"I know, but this is the movies and you have to have popcorn. It's the law," he laughed. Besides, he told himself, he wanted to have something to do with his hands that longed to hold hers but he didn't want to risk being too bold too early and scaring her away. Sitting beside her for a couple of hours and not touching her was going to be torture. He took their tub of popcorn and paid the kid behind the counter. "Okay, let's go find some good seats."

* * *

"That was such a lovely story," Theresa said, her eyes practically glowing after they left the theater and headed for Justin's car. "Thank you Justin; that was one of my most wonderful evenings ever."

"Good, that was the goal," Justin said as he unlocked the car and opened the door for her.

"Do you always go to those kinds of movies? I would not think that you would be interested in a movie about Julia Childs." Theresa asked and then laughed. "I have even cooked some of those recipes."

Justin was quiet for a moment, "No, that's not my usual kind of movie," he admitted.

"I did not think so. You did that for me. What one would you have gone to see?"

He was quiet for a long time. "Justin," Theresa prodded.

"Okay…I would have gone to the one about the Mexican boxer but I thought that might hit too close to home for you so I didn't."

"You are a very kind man," she reached out and took his hand. "Thank you for thinking of me but I think when we come the next time, we will see that one, ches?" She paused for a moment. "If there is a next time…?"

"Of course, there'll be a next time," Justin said as if someone had just told him he'd won the lottery. "I just didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"You will be with me, ches?" Justin nodded at her question. "Then it does not matter. I will not be uncomfortable with you. Since I met you at the library, I am never uncomfortable with you."


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

-------------------

Dean Hay watched as the conservative looking man he'd seen in the newsletter walked into Lombard Middle School to begin his day. This was his third day of staking out Eugene Kennedy. He'd found he had to watch them for a few days to get their routine. Knowing the victim's routine was important. Then he knew when and where was best to strike. His hands kept opening and closing into fists as the desire, no need, for the kill was getting stronger. He couldn't resist much longer. He couldn't stand another day of the insane roar of the motor from the street crew working further down the block.

Agent Derek Morgan didn't like the incessant roar of the motor either but it was necessary as he and Rossi, dressed in City of Baltimore coveralls and bright orange vests, used a truck on loan from the city to stake out their subject's stakeout. Hotch was in a car on a cross street by the school viewing Hay with binoculars while JJ and Prentiss had suddenly become new TAs for Eugene Kennedy. Reid spent his time cruising the hallways in work pants and a polo jersey in an attempt to look like the fill in for the school's custodian.

The team had informed Eugene Kennedy that they thought he was next on the killer's list. Kennedy was understandably alarmed and wondered why they didn't just arrest him if they thought he was the guy. Hotch had explained that without probable cause, they couldn't get the warrant to search Dean Hay's home and vehicle needed to gather evidence for an arrest. They had instructed Kennedy to go about his business as usual, that they had their eyes on him and Dean Hay.

"So, what are your usual plans for this evening?" Prentiss asked as she, JJ and Reid sat in the faculty lounge with Kennedy.

"This is the night I volunteer at a homeless shelter in DC. I help people who are going for their GED," the teacher replied.

"Not Samaritan House," Reid asked.

"Yes, how did you know?" the teacher replied.

"Someone I know has gone there. You must know Justin Wade?" Reid said.

"Yeah, I've known Justin for a long time. I'm good friends with his oldest sister, Sarah. We were in college together. She told me what Justin was doing there and it sounded like a great idea so I volunteer twice a month. You don't think I should still go, do you?"

"Yes, we think you absolutely should go," JJ replied as the door to the faculty lounge opened revealing a middle aged woman with curly blond hair.

"Hi, I'm Rose Highland, you've been expecting me?"

* * *

Morgan and Rossi loaded the hose from the manhole in the truck, replaced the cover and drove around the block where their SUV waited. They switched vehicles, whipped off their coveralls and headed back to the school in time for the last bell.

The doors opened and students started to flow out. Dean Hay could feel his muscles twitch in anticipation. It was almost time. The students dispersed to waiting school busses, cars with waiting parents, some took bikes from the stands near the school and headed off down the street while still others set off on foot, the joy that another school day had ended evident in their expressions. After the school yard emptied the teachers started to leave, one and two at a time. Finally Dean saw him as he approached his late model red Altima, clicked the remote and got in. Hay started the engine of his own vehicle, "At last, here we go."

The team followed Hay as he tailed the Altima through the Baltimore streets. Hotch would turn off, leaving Morgan and Rossi to follow in a different vehicle so that Hay wouldn't notice that he was being followed. When they reached Kennedy's street, Hay parked further down the street so he could observe his victim's movements without being noticed. The agents parked the three vehicles, one on Kennedy's street and one each on the two side streets with a view of the house and Hay.

Dean decided to stay until dark, thinking it was unlikely Kennedy would go anywhere after dark. Twilight was setting in when the door opened and he once again got into his car and headed, this time, for the beltway. Hay felt the excitement literally flow through his veins. This was it, he could feel it.

So, the convoy down the beltway began, the three FBI vehicles jockeying for position but still maintaining Dean Hay's Mercedes and Eugene Kennedy's Altima in their sights. Once they reached the city Hotch drove ahead to the shelter, leaving the other team members to keep track of the two vehicles.

"Eugene's car's in the small parking area behind the shelter, Hay's in the alley," Morgan relayed to the others. "I'm going to park by the deli across the street. We've got a good view of the alley and the parking area."

"We'll park on the street in front of the shelter," Prentiss replied.

"Woo hoo," Morgan said as Prentiss exited the vehicle. She'd changed from the suit she'd worn for her TA role into a black leather skirt that barely covered her butt worn over a siren red bustier topped with a black wool shrug that did little to protect her from the cool fall air. Her hair was a mass of curls and her makeup was heavy. She wore high boots that extended above her knees. "Prentiss, what have you been hiding girl?"

"Shut up Morgan. If my mother could see me now…" she whispered.

JJ's thoughts ran down a similar vein although she looked nothing like Emily in a baggy wrinkled coat with leggings that had holes in them. She carried a tattered shopping bag and matted grey hair replaced her usually well cared for blond locks. At least she was warmer than Emily, she thought.

Dean Hay watched as his target exited his vehicle and entered the shelter. The team could see the students gather and darkness began to descend as they first had dinner and then the lesson began. Reid was glad to see that Theresa was not one of the students this night. After about two hours the group started to break up. It took another thirty minutes for the students to disband. The team was alert. Now was the moment.

Dean Hay got silently out of his car and moved into the shadows as his quarry finally approached his car. He stealthily snuck from the shadows until he was right behind him, his adrenaline making his heart pump so loudly he was almost sure he could hear it. His hand tightened around the knife's handle impatiently waiting for the exhilaration and release he would feel when the knife penetrated Eugene Kennedy's flesh. He raised the knife above his head when he suddenly felt all the air rush out of his lungs as the man's elbow connected with his gut. Suddenly there were screams of "Federal agents, drop the knife." He looked around at the people all pointing guns and flashlights at him, two men in suits, one black guy in blue jeans and a tee shirt, a hooker and a bag lady. And his quarry wasn't Eugene Kennedy at all but a guy who looked like him. "Drop the knife and get on your knees," one of the voices said. He dropped the knife at his feet and fell to his knees. It wasn't supposed to end this way. His knee touched the handle in the darkness. He reached out with a swiftness he wasn't aware he possessed and grabbed the knife as the agents yelled for him to drop it and plunged it into the man's leg just as shots rang out and both Dean Hay and Spencer Reid fell to the ground.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

The agents ran over to both Reid and Hay. "He's gone," Emily said when she felt for a pulse in Hay's neck and then ran to Reid.

"Reid, talk to me buddy," Morgan said to his friend on the ground but all the young agent did was groan. Morgan applied pressure to his bleeding leg but to no avail. He could feel the blood pulsing around his hand. "The blood's gushing out. He must have hit the femoral."

Emily, who was already on her cell calling for an ambulance to their location, nodded. "We have a federal agent down; stab wound left leg, severe bleeding, please hurry!"

"Hotch we need to make a tourniquet or he's going to bleed out. Give me your tie," Morgan said anxiously as he applied as much pressure to the site as he could. "Reid, stay with me little brother."

"The tie will be too slippery," Rossi was already removing his holster to get his belt off. "Use this," he handed Morgan the belt. The men wrapped the belt around Reid's leg and Morgan pulled it as tight as his strength would allow causing Reid to scream at the pain.

JJ knelt down and cushioned Reid's head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair that Rose Highland, a hair and makeup artist with a Baltimore theatre group, had cut just that afternoon and applied makeup to age him so he'd look like Eugene Kennedy. "You're going to be okay Spence, we got ya." Emily knelt by her fallen colleague as well and clasped his hand in hers and squeezed.

"Where the fuck is that ambulance?" Morgan shouted in frustration as he continued to pull tightly on Rossi's now bloody belt although he thought the flow may have stemmed a bit.

Finally after what seemed like a lifetime but was, in reality, only a few minutes, they heard the sirens that heralded the arrival of the EMTs and the DC metro police. The paramedics began to work on Reid immediately, once Rossi and Hotch literally had to pull Morgan out of the way. They replaced the belt with a pneumatic tourniquet. "Let's get him into the bus," one of the EMTs yelled. We don't have a lot of time to save this leg."

When the EMTs refused to let Morgan ride in the ambulance, the team rushed to Morgan and Rossi's SUV and followed the ambulance to George Washington Medical Centre, leaving the metro police to deal with Dean Hay's body and the scene. The paramedics were removing the stretcher carrying their friend and teammate from the ambulance when they pulled up outside the ER. They could see he now had an IV running in each arm. The paramedics and waiting ER personnel rushed the gurney into the ER, the EMT giving a rapid report as they went. "Twenty-eight year old FBI agent, stab wound left thigh, bleeding profusely, tourniquet applied at scene, two large bore IVs, one Ringer's, one saline running wide open, BP 76/42, tachy at 140, resps 36, cool and clammy, pupils equal and reactive, decreased LOC but responding to painful stimuli."

"Straight to the OR," the ER doctor said as he examined the leg, "Beep Dr. Kelly stat, change that saline to another bag of Ringer's, I don't like that BP. He could be going into shock. Give four units of O neg through the rapid infuser. Let's move people."

Reid could see the bright lights overhead but the faces seemed to blur as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Where was he? "On my count," he heard and suddenly he was being hoisted through the air and he felt his clothes, well he guessed it was Eugene Kennedy's clothes literally being cut and ripped off his body. Then suddenly he was speeding down a hallway and all he could see were blurred lights and faces.

A nurse had shown the team to the surgical waiting room. Another nurse had come in almost immediately with three pairs of scrubs and handed one each to JJ and Emily who smiled gratefully at the woman. Morgan had called Garcia and was pacing the floor, unable to sit. She handed the larger set to him and he looked bewildered. "You have your friend's blood all over your clothes sir," she informed him.

Hotch had called Detective Judd to inform him that their serial killer was dead and in the DC morgue. He also spoke to DC metro. CSIs were on the scene collecting evidence and he told the officer the police could find them at GWMC if they needed to confiscate their weapons.

* * *

A few minutes after Hotch's conversation with Detective Judd, Garcia arrived and quickly hugged Morgan, Emily and JJ. "How's he doing? Do we know anything yet? He's going to be alright, isn't he? Our sweet boy's going to be alright isn't he?"

"Garcia, Garcia, stop," Hotch said. "We don't know anything yet. He's still in surgery. Why don't you sit down?" The normally bubbly computer tech took a seat between JJ and Emily and each took one of her hands.

"This is all my fault," Hotch said as he looked at his hands that were locked together. "I should never have let him do it."

"It's not your fault Aaron. He volunteered for this, even suggested it," Rossi reminded the unit chief. "And it was a good idea. Hay fell for it. Who knew he'd go for suicide by cop and reach down and pick up that knife?"

"Excuse me," a nurse in blue scrubs said from the doorway, "Is one of you Aaron Hotchner?"

"Yes, I'm Aaron Hotchner." Hotch stood from his seat on the sofa and walked rapidly towards the woman. "How's Reid?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir; I don't have any news yet. He's still in surgery; I'm here because you're listed on Agent Reid's ID as the person to call in case of an emergency. Are you his next of kin or does he not have any next of kin?" She asked.

"Next of kin, uh, yes, he has a mother in Las Vegas but she's ill. That's why I'm listed," Hotch replied.

"Do you have her number sir? Would you like us to call her?"

"No, no thank you, I'll take care of it." Hotch said and the nurse nodded, leaving the room.

"Are you going to call Reid's mom Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"I guess I'll call her doctor and let him decide what to tell her or prepare her before he tells her." Hotch pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"He made a recording," Garcia blurted out quietly, looking at the floor.

"A recording, what recording, Garcia what are you talking about?" Hotch's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"When he was in Nichols' house he called me and asked me to make a recording for his mother…just in case. He knew he couldn't phone her and he wanted her to hear his voice. He said he loved her and he'd spent every day of his life proud to be her son. I never deleted it."

"Mama, listen to me, you are not going to have to use that recording, you hear me?" Morgan grabbed Garcia by the shoulders. "He's going to be fine."

"What about Fletcher?" JJ asked. "He should know before he hears something on the news."

"He'll be really upset. We should call Theresa," Rossi suggested. "If he's upset, she could comfort him more than anyone else."

"What about Phoebe?" Morgan added.

"Okay, Morgan and Garcia, go tell Fletcher. He can't hear this on the news or over the phone. I'll call Bennington and talk to Dianna Reid's doctor. Prentiss, you call Theresa and if she has any trouble getting away, you can explain things to your mother. JJ, you call Phoebe."

-------------------

Phoebe Coulter rushed into the surgical waiting room to find Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Prentiss sitting there. "How is he? Have you heard anything?"

"Not yet, we're still waiting." Emily patted the seat beside JJ and herself.

* * *

Garcia and Morgan said little on the drive to Baltimore. He used the lights and sirens to get there as fast as possible. The pair barely heard the noise; each seemed lost in their own thoughts. The school was locked up at this time of night so Morgan pressed the buzzer. The security guard spoke through the intercom. "The school is closed now. Visiting hours are over."

"Yes, we're aware of that. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan with Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia of the FBI. We need to speak to Fletcher Bancroft. His guardian, SSA Dr. Reid was injured tonight in the line of duty. We need to tell Fletcher."

A small window opened in the door. "May I see your credentials please?" the man said. Morgan and Garcia held up their IDs. A couple of moments later the door unlocked and they were allowed admittance. "Tim Dalton," the security guard said when he'd closed and locked the door once again. "Mrs. Donnough has gone to get Fletcher. You can speak to him in the lounge over here." He walked to the first floor lounge, opened the door and flipped the switch on the wall, flooding the room with light. The pair had barely sat down when Fletcher rushed into the room, barefoot and clad only in navy and grey striped pajamas, accompanied by a middle aged woman with shoulder length dark hair, they assumed was Mrs. Donnough.

"What happened?" Fletcher asked excitedly, his cheeks pink. "Did something happen to Spencer? You wouldn't be here if something hadn't happened to him. Is he okay? Is Spencer okay? Tears could be heard in the child's voice. Garcia pulled the boy into her arms but he pulled away, "Tell me."

"Okay, Reid got stabbed in the leg. It looks pretty bad. He was bleeding a lot and right now he's in surgery and they're working on him. We don't know more than that," Morgan told the boy.

"But he's going to be okay, right?"

"We won't know until he's out of surgery honeybunch."

"I'm coming with you. I'm coming to the hospital with you." He turned to Mrs. Donnough, "I'm going to my room to change."

* * *

The team and Phoebe looked up to see Theresa in the doorway of the waiting room. Her hand was held by a well built man with sandy blonde hair and a friendly face. "How is he?" she asked before she introduced Justin to the group.

"No news yet," Rossi said, pointing at chairs for them to sit.

* * *

Forty-five minutes passed before there was movement at the door again. Garcia and Morgan were back with Fletcher who ran to Theresa's arms. "He has to be alright," the child said and the tears that he'd been trying so hard to hold back began to run down his cheeks. "God, please let him be okay," Fletcher wailed and the room seemed to fill with a silent but palpable amen to that when a man in blue scrubs appeared in the doorway.

"Who's here for Spencer Reid?"


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

-----------------

"Who's here for Spencer Reid?"

"I am," the small voice said as Fletcher literally jumped away from Theresa and ran to stand in front of the doctor. "I am," he repeated.

The adults stood as one. "We all are," Hotch said. "I'm Aaron Hotchner. I have Dr. Reid's power of attorney."

"How's Spencer?" Fletcher asked.

The doctor looked at Hotch, his eyes questioning whether it was alright to speak frankly in front of the child. Hotch nodded. It probably wouldn't make much sense to the child anyway, Dr. Kelly thought. "Luckily, the injury was in the lower aspect of the femoral artery in the subsartorial canal below the profunda branch." He looked at the group to see if they were comprehending what he was saying.

"Go on," Fletcher urged. "I understand the vasculature of the human leg. I'll explain it to them," he flicked his thumb at the others, "if they don't."

Dr. Kelly's eyes widened as he looked at Hotch, once again Hotch just nodded. "We tied the femoral artery off below the second perforating artery which we anastomosed to the arterial plexus of his knee to prevent circulation in the leg from being impaired. We had to repair some muscle and soft tissue of course, but because of the quick application of the tourniquet and the speed in getting him here and into surgery, Agent Reid will walk out of here in a few days."

It was as if a huge breath they didn't realize they'd all been holding was released. "He's going to be okay, really?" Fletcher asked and the doctor nodded. "When can I see him?"

"Well, it's rather late now and he's still in recovery. He'll probably be pretty groggy for a while. You could probably come back sometime tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Fletcher echoed the doctor's words. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving Spencer. I'm not."

"Okay, what if I get one of the nurses to take you in when they get him to his room and then you can go home, get some sleep and come back tomorrow," the man suggested.

"No, you don't get it," Fletcher was adamant. "Spencer is home. Where he is, is home for me so I'll just stay in his room and if he needs anything I can get it for him."

"The boy is right," Hotch stepped forward. "Spencer is Fletcher's guardian and he does live with him when he's not in school in Baltimore."

"Hey there sunshine, you can come home with me if you want," Garcia told Fletcher.

"No," Fletcher said loudly. "I need to be with Spencer. He needs me now. I can be there for him."

Hotch pulled the doctor off to the side. "Would it be so bad to let the boy be with Spencer? They do have a very special relationship. Fletcher, as you probably noticed, is a genius. He's older than his years. He's not apt to wander off or anything if that's what you're thinking. He'll stick like glue to Spencer."

"We can't leave an unattended child alone with a patient, I'm sorry."

"Well, then there's nothing to worry about doc. I'll stay with him," Morgan replied. "I wasn't about to leave my little brother alone anyway, no matter what you said."

-------------------

Justin drove through the relatively quiet Washington streets, the traffic less hectic at this hour. Theresa was silent beside him. "You okay?" he said at last.

"Ches, I am fine. I have never had someone I cared about be so hurt. I was afraid for him…and for Fletcher," Theresa answered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Was there something, you know, between you and this guy?" Justin held his breath. The guy was a doctor three times over, an FBI agent, good looking and he took in little kids. How could he hope to compete with that?

"No," she was thoughtful for a moment. "Do you want me to be honest?" she said at last.

"Please," Justin nodded his head as he kept his eyes on the road.

"At first I had a, how do you say, squash, on him."

"Crush, you had a crush on him?"

"Ches, it was a silly thought, just because he was the first man to treat me with decency and respect, and he made me feel like I deserved that. He helped me stay in this country. He took me into his home when I was charged with a murder and he helped get the charge dismissed. He even suggested I get my GED so I can go to cooking school and be a chef. He is a hero for me. But, in the end, what would we talk about? He is so smart and I…well I am not as smart. I care for him very much but I am much more comfortable talking to you. That is okay, ches?"

"That's great," Justin stopped at the light, reached over and squeezed her hand.

* * *

The lights were dim when the nurse showed Morgan and Fletcher into Reid's hospital room. Phoebe had wanted to stay as well but the hospital staff insisted that only two people could stay and Morgan and Fletcher were not about to be denied.

Fletcher looked at all the equipment. There were IV poles with pumps, one had a bag half full of clear liquid, the other was red, blood, Fletcher thought. There was a cuff around Spencer's arm that took his blood pressure at set intervals and a pulse oximeter probe on his finger. Oxygen tubing went into his nose. A nurse in pink scrubs was recording the data on a clipboard. "Hi," she said, "I'm Natalie. I'm Dr. Reid's nurse for the night."

"Is…is he okay?" Fletcher asked eyeing all the equipment.

"Yes, he's fine." She tapped one of the IV pumps. This is all pretty routine. Not everybody gets blood or oxygen after surgery but he lost a fair amount which lowered his oxygen saturation, hence the oxygen. Once his blood volume is replaced, that'll bounce back up. He'll likely just sleep and when he does wake up he'll be kind of groggy for a while," the nurse explained.

"Is he in any pain?" Fletcher asked.

"At the moment the anesthetic hasn't completely worn off. He will be in some pain when he wakes up and we'll give him something." She turned to leave and Morgan followed her to the door.

"Natalie," he said, "about those pain killers."

"I know, no narcotics, the patient made that quite clear to the staff before they put him under and again in recovery. The doctor's ordered a non narcotic, Toradol. Don't worry; we'll take good care of him." She turned and went out the door.

Morgan turned back into the room to see Fletcher on his knees on the chair beside Reid's bed. He held one of Reid's hands in both of his tiny ones. "S…Spencer, it's me. Can you hear me? It's Fletcher. I'm here. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what anybody says." Tears began to fall from his deep blue eyes. "I'm not leaving you. We're a team;" he gently stroked Reid's hand, "Un…unbeatable. You just sleep now and I'll be here when you wake up, okay? I'll take good care of you." He laid his head down on the bed beside his guardian, still holding his hand.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

Reid slowly opened his eyes then closed them again quickly against the searing pain that shot through his left leg. He opened them once more. Everything was blurry. He wanted to wake but his eyelids fluttered closed again. Maybe if he slept he wouldn't feel the pain in his leg. Why was his leg so sore, he wondered? "Well, you're finally back kid," said a voice he knew from somewhere beside him. His eyes finally opened and fixed on the man in the chair beside his bed. Bed…he was in bed and Morgan was grinning at him with that patented Derek Morgan smile that, momentarily, despite his pain and confusion, made his topsy-turvy world seem righted again.

"What…where…?"

"You don't remember? Dean Hay stabbed you in the leg, hit your femoral artery. You could have bled out."

"Why didn't I?" Reid asked sleepily, rubbing his hand over his eyes and noticing, for the first time, the blood infusing into his arm.

"Rossi's belt around your leg as a tourniquet."

"Thanks…Hay?"

"Suicide by cop." Morgan told him and Reid nodded. "Somebody was really worried about you." Morgan inclined his head toward the little blonde head that slept with his head on Reid's bed, still clutching his hand.

"What's he doing here?" Reid's eyes widened.

"We had to go tell him. We didn't want him to hear about it on the news," Morgan explained his and Garcia's late night trip to Weinthorpe. "He insisted on coming and he insisted on staying with you."

"How did he take it?" Reid asked.

"He was pretty upset. Theresa was here last night with her boyfriend. He seems like a really nice guy. So she was able to comfort Fletcher somewhat. They didn't want to let him stay but," Morgan said emphatically, "he was not leaving. The kid can be stubborn."

Reid reached over and ruffled the blonde hair. Fletcher raised his head. "Spencer," he shouted and seemed to somehow spring from the chair into Reid's arms causing the searing pain in his leg to tear through his whole body. He stifled a grimace as he held the boy. "Spencer, I was so worried about you."

"Well, it looks like I'm going to be alright," he said as brightly as he could through gritted teeth against the pain. He gave Morgan a look that said, 'I am going to be alright aren't I.' His friend cum brother just nodded.

"Uh…Fletcher buddy, I think your weight is kind of hurting Reid's leg," Morgan said.

"Oh!" The boy jumped off immediately. "Do you want me to get Natalie. She said they'd give you something." The boy ran from the room in search of the nurse.

Reid looked at Morgan. "All I have to do is press this button, don't I?"

"I know, but he wants to look after you. He was adamant about that."

Fletcher returned a few moments later with Natalie in tow. "Hi Dr. Reid, I'm Natalie, Fletcher here tells me you're having some pain."

"Yeah," Reid grimaced as he saw her approach him with a syringe. "What's that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Toradol, it's a non narcotic analgesic, effective on moderate to severe pain but not habit forming," Natalie recited and Reid was glad to hear this as she inserted the needle into his IV port and injected the liquid into his line. "There, that should start to work very shortly," she said as she took another set of vital signs. "We'll take the blood down after this unit is finished and you'll only have one IV. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No thank you Natalie," Reid replied. "Thanks Fletcher," he said when the nurse had gone.

"Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Um, shouldn't you be in school. I don't want you to miss school because of me."

"Hey, it's okay, I'll catch up. I brought school books. I'll home school until you're better. You don't actually think I'd have a better teacher at school than I would at home with you?" the boy scoffed. "Jamal can email me any assignments and I can email them back to him. And, there's always Phoebe." Fletcher crossed his arms and nodded his head as if to say he'd already thought of everything and that was that.

-----------------

"Hi sweetcheeks," Reid heard from the doorway as Garcia walked in with a colorful helium filled balloon saying "Get Well" which she set on his nightstand. The weighted end held it in place while the long ribbon allowed it to reach high enough that the air circulating from the ceiling vents moved it back and forth. "How are you feeling?" She leaned in to hug him, a little more gently than Fletcher had done.

"I guess I'm doing okay for a guy who got stabbed in the leg," Reid admitted now that the Toradol had taken affect. "Sorry I scared you guys."

"Yeah, you gotta quit doing that," Garcia agreed as the door opened and Lori, his nurse's aide, came in with his breakfast tray.

She removed the lid and Reid stared at some apple juice, Jell-O and a cup of weak coffee. "This can't be breakfast," Reid looked at the woman with dismay.

"Always clear fluids the first day after surgery," she said. "Enjoy," she left him with a smile, probably because she'd had eggs or toast or oatmeal for breakfast, Reid thought.

"Morgan, get your eyes off my Jell-O," Reid commanded while Morgan gave Garcia and Fletcher an innocent, "who me" expression.

"Garcia would you take Fletcher down to the cafeteria and make sure he has some breakfast?" Reid asked.

"Sure thing honeybunch, come on sunshine," Garcia said but Fletcher looked unsure if he should leave Spencer.

"Go on," Reid motioned with his head. "Morgan will be here."

"What, I don't get any of your Jell-O and now I don't get any breakfast?" Morgan spread his hands out in front of him.

"You can eat after. I have to talk to you, it's important." Reid motioned for Fletcher and Garcia to go. "Close the door please," he added as they left.

Morgan looked nonplussed. "What's up my man?"

"What happened last night got me thinking about Fletcher. I mean, our jobs can be dangerous and any day could be our last."

"Reid, what are you getting at?"

"Okay, I've had a few brushes with death and I've managed to escape so far but…"

"Reid, I do not want to go there man," Morgan put up a hand to stop his friend.

"Morgan, we have to go there; there's Fletcher to consider. If something happens to me and, God willing, it won't and I'll be Fletcher's guardian until he's a man. But if something does happen, I have to know that someone I trust will be there for him. I know the Bancrofts won't be so, if anything happens to me, will you be Fletcher's guardian? I know it's a lot to ask of a friend…"

"Then don't ask," Morgan interrupted. "If something happens to your brother, you take his kid, that's what family does. If anything happens to you, I'll take Fletcher, there's no need to ask."

"Don't you want to think about it?" Reid asked.

"Nothing to think about man."

* * *

Reid and Morgan stared at the TV screen in awe. A press conference last night, the anchor informed them had announced that the killer of three teachers in Baltimore, Dean Hay, younger son of pharmaceutical mogul, Winston Hay, had been killed in a showdown with federal agents in Washington. One of the agents had been injured but was in stable condition in a Washington hospital. Reid was glad to hear that. Further news reports revealed that Winston Hay, who had been ill for some time, had been rushed to the hospital during the night and had died a couple of hours later. "This just in," the anchor said, "Judy Ralph, a former girlfriend of Dean Hay, who had named him in a paternity suit that never came to court, presented papers in court this morning alleging that her daughter is now the only living member of the Hay family and Judy is seeking the Hay fortune on her daughter's behalf…In other news…" Reid clicked the set off as Garcia and Fletcher returned.

Garcia gave Reid a peck on the forehead, "Duty calls, be well my dove, I'll see you later."

"I'll see you later too," Morgan said as he headed for the door.

When he'd closed the door, Reid said to Fletcher, "I have something to talk to you about."


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Well, this is it folks the last chapter. Thanks to all who supported the story and put it in their alerts and to all those who reviewed. It was greatly appreciated. Special thanks to mablereid for all her support and encouragement.

-----------------

"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" Reid asked Morgan as they pulled the SUV into Weinthorpe Academy.

"It's going to be great. The kids'll love it." They stopped in front of the building and Emily and Garcia emerged from the SUV behind them.

"You got all the permission slips sweetness?" Garcia asked.

"Yeah, they're all right here." He never dreamed he'd be gathering up thirteen boys for a birthday party but here he was. He'd contacted all the parents for permission to take their boys away from the school.

He'd had to draw the line at twelve. Fletcher had never had a birthday party before and when Reid asked him to make a list, he was sure it included every boy in the school. Finally Fletcher had cut it down to twelve and assured Spencer that none of these guys could be excluded. So here he was with two SUVs picking up thirteen boys.

They were all ready in the lobby when the foursome went in. He showed Mrs. Halliday the permission slips signed by the parents. "Well, aren't you just the nicest man to do this, especially with you being injured in the line of duty and everything." She batted her eyelashes at Reid who was still limping after his surgery. "I feel so much safer knowing we have such fine public servants like yourself out there protecting us." Morgan started to giggle while Emily rolled her eyes. The boys quickly gathered up their gear, including sleeping bags, much to Reid's relief and headed for the SUVs, which forestalled any further amorous intentions on the part of Mrs. Halliday.

Morgan was still chuckling as they got to the SUVs and were storing the boys' gear. Fletcher looked upset. "What's the matter?" Reid asked the boy quietly.

"They're all teasing me," he whispered.

Welcome to my world, Reid thought. "Why?" he asked.

"Because Macy Hume gave me a birthday card," the boy responded.

"Oh," Reid nodded, "well, that's nice, isn't it?"

"Spencer, she's a girl and she's seven," Fletcher replied as if it were some kind of mortal sin. "They're all saying she's my girlfriend," he whispered.

As one who'd experienced a lot of bullying in his life, Reid understood the difference between that and good natured teasing. "I'm sure they'll forget all about it once we get involved in the party." He stifled the urge to giggle with glee that, despite their intellect, these were, after all, eight and nine year old boys and as they've always said, 'boys will be boys.'

* * *

The first stop of the day was Game Central which Reid had rented for the afternoon. It was a facility filled with arcade games the boys could play separately or against one another. The boys seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely as Jamal squealed with delight and threw his fists in the air after besting the birthday boy in a game of Dead or Alive.

Reid could hardly wait for the games to be over and the boys would go into the room set aside for refreshments and gifts. He couldn't wait to see what Fletcher thought of his gift. JJ, Theresa and Phoebe, with Hotch, Rossi and Justin's help, had done a fantastic job on the room. The guys had hung streamers and other decorations and put posters on the walls while the women had concentrated on the food.

One platter was stacked with mini hot dogs and hamburgers while another had the fixings for tacos. Another had cheese sticks and dips. There were chips, dips and candies of all kinds. The girls had made up decorative gift bags for each of the boys but Reid had no idea what was in them. The main attraction, however, was the huge birthday cake that sat in the middle of the table complete with nine candles, ready to be lit.

Another table was loaded with gifts from Fletcher's friends and the team, which the boy couldn't wait to rip into once the games were completed. The boys dug into the food and especially the candy. Just what I need, Reid thought, thirteen eight and nine year boys high on sugar. But not even that eventuality could mar the joy he got from watching Fletcher tear into his gifts with the reckless abandon of a little boy who had never had such a day in his young life. Ribbon and brightly colored paper flew everywhere but no one complained. The boys didn't seem to notice the uniqueness of this moment but the look was reflected in the eyes and the smiles of each of the adults. As his lips curved upward, Reid thought this high was better than anything he'd ever gotten from a Dilaudid bottle and it was one he would remember forever.

Justin watched Theresa as she briefly caught Spencer's eye across the crowded room. He could see the tears brimming in her eyes although her smile was huge and brighter than he had ever seen as she silently mouthed the words, "Thank you," before turning to him, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

After Fletcher had finished with his gifts and cards he looked confused. There were gifts from everyone but Spencer. He wouldn't say anything. Spencer had done enough giving him this party. "Oh," Spencer said suddenly, "I almost forgot." He turned and went into a little storage area concealed at the back of the room and came out wheeling a bright blue bicycle with a huge red bow on the handlebars. "It was kind of hard to wrap."

Fletcher's eyes grew wide at the site of the shiny new bike. "That's for me," he asked in confusion.

"Happy Birthday buddy," Reid said as Fletcher took possession of the bike.

"It's mine, really?" Fletcher said in disbelief.

"Uh huh and…I got one too. I thought it was one of those things you and I could do together. I'll have to take you to the bicycle shop and get you fitted with a helmet though."

"You and me…together," the boy whispered.

"Yeah," Reid nodded.

Fletcher gently lowered his precious new bike to the floor and threw himself into Reid's arms. "I love you Spencer," he whispered tearfully into Reid's shoulder.

"I love you too Fletcher….but right now we've got all that food and that big cake to get into."

-----------------

Reid stood in the pool at the hotel where Rossi had arranged two adjoining rooms for them; he seemed to have contacts everywhere, one for the boys and one for Reid and Morgan who were spending the night. The boys also had complete access to the pool for three hours. He watched the kids frolic in the water, their laughter echoing throughout the pool and its surrounding area. He looked over to the loungers where most of the adults were sitting, sipping on drinks. They'd all gone in the water except for Hotch and Rossi and the sight of Phoebe sitting there sprawled out on a lounger in her swimsuit while she and Emily were engrossed in conversation was doing things to him. It was also giving him ideas about what he could do the next time he had a long weekend off…

The boys continued to toss a huge ball around in the pool, hopefully using up some of the energy all the sugar had produced, Reid thought as he sat on one of the chairs talking to Justin. "I was really impressed with what you people are doing at Samaritan House when I was there the night I was undercover as Eugene Kennedy. I'd like to help and I'd like to get Fletcher involved. I want him to learn about giving to his community and using his gifts to help others would be a good thing for him. It would also be one more thing we can do together. I'm trying to involve him in normal activities. He's been around too much violence."

"We'd be happy to have you both," Justin replied. "Uh…Theresa told me about all the things you've done for her, thank you."

Justin held out his hand and Reid shook it. "No problem, she's a great lady and she deserves to be happy."

"I'll do everything in my power to see that she is."

* * *

Reid was lying in bed but wasn't sleeping yet; sometimes his leg still throbbed a little at the end of a day although it had felt great when he was in the pool. Perhaps another reason to take Phoebe on a getaway weekend, he thought as he heard Morgan snoring loudly in the next bed. The boys had been quiet for about an hour when the connecting door opened and Fletcher whispered, "Spencer, are you asleep?"

"No, I'm awake," he whispered as well. "Is something wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're very welcome, for what?"

The boy sat on the bed beside Spencer. "How could I ever list everything? We'd be into the next millennium."

"I know you probably find this hard to believe and someday you'll understand, but you give me as much as I give you, maybe more. It's not physical things but it's things that effect how I feel in here," he patted his chest, "How I feel as a man."

"Really?"

"Yes, I don't know if I believe in fate, destiny, kismet, whatever you want to call it but I feel that sometimes when the sun, the moon and the stars are aligned just right, two people who need each other seem to somehow find one another. That's how I look at you and me."

Fletcher nodded.

"Now," Reid said, "you better get back to bed." The boy stood and headed for the door.

"Good night Spencer."

"Good night buddy, sweet dreams.

Right now, Fletcher thought, as snuggled back into his bed, it was hard to believe there were any other kind.

* * *

The End


End file.
